Minority Report : Fallopian Addicts
by spittlepig
Summary: [Minority Report: Detective Danny Witwer] When you dig up the past... ...all you get is dirty...
1. the dead

--- CHAPTER ONE ---   
  
NEW YORK CITY --- 2O54  
  
He lay there. Not moving. Not breathing. Not thinking.   
  
Not alive.   
  
He was dead.  
  
Or so said the bullet in his skull. Exploded. In the back. Disfiguring his face. In the front. Once beautiful.  
  
Now bloody.  
  
And dead.  
  
And she was above him. Hand and hook in gloves. Up to her elbows. Buried in his chest cavity. Up to her elbows.   
  
Fat Boy Slim blared. The room. Tiny. And white. Too small to hear anything. Beside the music. Blares. Drums. Screeches. Imperceivable words. Cut. And spliced sayings. Sentences. And words.  
  
California Is Druggy.  
  
An Oldie. But a goodie.  
  
She dug through blood. Bones. Intestines. And finally. Metal.  
  
Retreating with it. She stepped back. Extracting her hand and hook. And stepping on something. Accidentally. With fat legs. Rolling it.  
  
It ripped loose. A hose. At his throat. Sucking at his artery. And painted the room. Red. With his blood.  
  
It swung convulsively. Dying. Spraying its decay. Until she grabbed its neck. And twisted it off. Getting a face full of blood. His blood.  
  
"Fuck!" She rubbed at her eyes. With her sleeve. Clamping the convulsing tube with her hook. And dropping it to the ground. Stepping on it. Keeping it down. While it spilled its contents. Pooling on the tiled floor.   
  
She wiped at her face. Clearing it from death. His death.  
  
She stumbled towards the sink. Flipped it on. And splashed her face. Revealing ugliness. Beneath blood. Disfigurement. Beneath clean death.   
  
Her skin was rotten. Burned. Chalky. And flaking.  
  
"Mother fucking..." she hissed. Clawing at her eyes. Trying to rid them of their pain.   
  
She came over. Slapped the corpse. Hard. In the cheek. Whose broken head turned. But made no reaction further.  
  
Flipping it off with her finger. The last one she had. Besides clips of bent steal. She stumbled out of the room.  
  
"Don't go anywhere." She said to the corpse. "I'm not done with you. You bloody fuck. I have to take a shit."  
  
She did so. Squatting. Reaching over for a magazine. Which blared news. That she could not read. Illiterate. Looking at the pictures.  
  
Large eyebrows curled. As she saw a picture. On the last page. Of the man. The one she had had her hands in. Just moments before. Up to her elbows.  
  
Shitting. But not pissing. She stood. Not flushing. Replaced her clothes. And strode past the sink. Not washing. Out into the office. Dark. And blue.  
  
"Where's the file?" She rumbled. And the receptionist rolled. Looking up from cleaning her spilt coffee on the floor. Not her fault. Though she suspected she somehow did it.  
  
"What file?"  
  
"On #01."  
  
The only body ever transferred here. To the murder unit. Since Precrime was shut down. Three days ago. After six years.  
  
The receptionist thumbed. Through files. Folders. Forms. And papers. But came up with nothing.  
  
"Not here."  
  
"You know how he died?"  
  
"Papers say murder." Ironically.   
  
She stared coldly. At the receptionist. Who went back to mopping. Black coffee coming off the floor. Indifferent to her eyes.   
  
"You fuck." She turned. And strode. On fat legs. Back down the hall.  
  
"Have a good day."  
  
Upon her return. She stopped in the doorway.   
  
Mouth agape.   
  
Eyes wide.   
  
Hooked. Metal hand. Clawing at the doorway. While a blossom of urine stained the front of her dress. Released.  
  
The corpse was gone. 


	2. the finding

CHAPTER TWO  
New York City - 2061  
  
She poked at him.  
  
"Hey Mister? Mister?"  
  
He flinched awake. His dark brow furrowing.  
  
She poked him again. Waking him.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
He opened his eyes. His breath sharp. As he looked at the little girl. Carrying a cat. White. And fluffy.  
  
"Who are you?" He whispered. His voice so thin. But she didn't hear.  
  
"I thought you were dead."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You weren't breathing. Plus you smell really bad."  
  
"Have I been here long?" He realized he was on the floor. Propped up against the wall. He remembered this position.  
  
"I brought your cat in. Then I saw your blood. Were you shot?"  
  
She poked at his chest. Her finger in a hole in his shirt. A blossom surrounding it. Her fingertip creating pain.  
  
He unbuttoned the top part of his shirt. Pulling it away to blood. And a necklace. Dark. A cross. And blue.  
  
"I don't remember."  
  
"Does it hurt?" She asked. Pulling back her hand.  
  
"Yes." He continued to push at his wound.  
  
"Are you on drugs?" She stood and walked away from him. Grasping the cat. Admiring the room. Fancy pictures. Well furnished. Spacey. Expensive. Apparently. The thought came to him. It was his.  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
"I bet you are." She dropped the cat. "Your eyes are all dil-dila- small..." Her big blue eyes in his. Brown. And dark.  
  
She went into the kitchen. Starting to open cupboards. Looking for what she found. Bread. Mayonnaise. And bologna.  
  
"You have the shits?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"My mom says that drugs cause you to have the shits."  
  
"No. I don't think so."  
  
"And she says that a good sandwich can fix the shits. Do you like sandwiches?"  
  
"I can't remember."  
  
"I bet you do." She spread the mayonnaise. And piled on the bologna. Coming back over. And giving him the sandwich.  
  
"You look tired. And your skin's all white. Are you tired?"  
  
"I don't think so." He looked down. The cat was licking his fingers.  
  
Her lips curled. Her eyebrows dipping.  
  
"You're weird."  
  
He looked at the sandwich. But didn't feel like eating.  
  
"I bet if I called my mom. She'd fix you. And figure out what's wrong with you." Then. To herself. "I bet it's drugs."  
  
He sat there. Staring at the cat. Who was now eating his sandwich. Then he looked at an upholstered chair. Some feet away from him. Expensive. While he sat on the floor.  
  
"You want me to call her?"  
  
He looked at her. Not knowing what to say.  
  
She shrugged. And went for the board phone.  
  
"How did I get here?"  
  
"I don't know. You were here when I came here."  
  
"How did you get here?"  
  
"I crawled through your window. You left it unlocked."  
  
"I did?"  
  
But she wasn't listening. She was talking. To her mother.  
  
He sat there silently. Eyes on the little girl. Not really seeing her. Or hearing her words. Not listening. His mind blank.  
  
He didn't see. But he was watching. As she flipped the board phone around. Her mother seeing him. Sitting in the corner. Blood on his shirt. Then flip it back around. And closed it.  
  
She turned. "Are you coming?"  
  
"To where?"  
  
"To my house?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because my mom says to bring you over."  
  
"Alright..."  
  
He still sat there.  
  
"You need help up?"  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
"Then get up."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Here." She stuck out her hand. But he didn't reach for it. So she picked up his. "You have to get up to move."  
  
Looking at her. He pushed himself up. Her pulling. As he rose to his feet. He stumbled. And landed against her.  
  
"Ow! Mister!" His hand was on her head. While his legs toppled over each other. She shoved him off. And he fell against the wall. Unable to stand without support.  
  
He huddled there. Bringing in his arms. A coldness inside of him. One he'd never felt before. It burned so cold. Like metal.  
  
"Come on mister." The kid said. Holding out her hand once more. But still. He didn't reach out to take it. She grabbing his.  
  
He followed on tottering legs. Towards the door.  
  
She paused.  
  
"Do you have a real car? Those [autos] are so boring."  
  
"I don't remember."  
  
"I bet you do! You're rich enough to!"  
  
She pulled him out the door.  
  
And stopped at the driveway. Licking her lips at the automobile. A Lexus. Silver. With cherry red siding. Brilliant. And shining.  
  
"Oh wow!" She let got of his hand. And he stood there. Feeling nothing. Looking at the car. Apparently his.  
  
"This is so cool!" She reached out and touched it. Running her hand over the hood. His palm smoothing along metal silk. Cherry red. And silver.  
  
"Get in!" She cried. Opening the passenger door. And climbing inside.  
  
He did so. She bouncing in the cushioned chair. Her eyes wide. Roving over buttons.  
  
"I've never been in one of these."  
  
He sat silently.  
  
She looked to him. But he did nothing.  
  
"Can you drive?"  
  
"I don't remember."  
  
She looked in the back. Seeing his coat. Folded in the seat.  
  
"Your coat's here. So obviously you did."  
  
He put his hands on the wheel. Noticing. For the first time. The black brace on his left hand.  
  
He looked at it.   
  
"Did you hurt yourself?"  
  
"I don't remember."  
  
"You don't remember a lot of stuff do you?"  
  
"I guess not."  
  
"Please say you remember how to drive though."  
  
"I don't think I can."  
  
"Dammnit." She crossed her arms.  
  
"Can you drive?"  
  
She turned. "Are you kidding? I'm only six."  
  
She threw her head back into the seat. Sighing hard. After a moment. She hit the door open. Mad.  
  
"Come on."  
  
"Where are we going now?"  
  
"To my house."  
  
She started down the path. And he almost followed. Until she turned around.  
  
"Get your coat."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because our walk's going to be cold." She said. Miffed.  
  
He grabbed for his coat. Got out of the car. Put it on. Buttoned it up. And felt a strange bulge in his chest pocket.  
  
Reaching in. He plucked out a pair of glasses. Black. Thin framed.  
  
"Do I wear glasses?"  
  
"What kind of question is that?" She was halfway down the path. Walking fast.  
  
"I can't remember if I do." He followed. Examining them.  
  
"Can you see right now?" She turned. And stopped. Waiting for him to catch up.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then you don't."  
  
"Then why are they in my pocket?"  
  
"I don't know. Put them on."  
  
He did so.  
  
"Can you see me?" He saw her with crisp clarity. She waved her hand.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Better?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then I guess you do." She turned. And began walking again. 


	3. the walk

--- CHAPTER THREE ---  
  
Her arms were crossed. Her legs shuffling. The bottom of her pants soaked. From the puddles. Too big to go around.  
  
Her teeth were chattering. Condensed air smoking from her mouth.  
  
"Are you cold?" He asked. She didn't turn to him.  
  
"No." She lied. Through chattering teeth. And shivering body.  
  
He looked at her. Keeping by her side. Watching her. Shake more and more. By the minute. Growing colder. Through more puddles. Dark. And blue.  
  
"I can carry you." He offered.  
  
And she turned to him.  
  
"Nobody carries me."  
  
She turned away. And kept walking. He beside her.  
  
Soon. He didn't have to strain to hear her teeth. And see her shake.   
  
He swooped over. And picked her up. Bundling her into his arms. Against his chest. Pulling her beneath his jacket.  
  
"You are cold."  
  
"I know." She confessed. Through chattering teeth. And shivering body. Feeling his warmth.  
  
Her cold forehead. Pressed against his warm neck.  
  
They walked on. Through the alley. He stepping in the puddles. Getting cold. Not her.  
  
~  
  
Up a long path. To a large barn house. Rustic. And simple.  
  
"We're home!" She jumped from his arms. And ran up to the door. She tried to open it. But found it locked. She pounded on the door. The man coming to join her on the porch.  
  
Suddenly. They could hear a voice. And the door was unlocked. Then opened.   
  
A woman. Skinny. Tall. Homely dressed. And pretty answered. She hesitated though. Her face falling. Upon sight of the man.  
  
She crossed her arms. Her face folding. Her eyes questioning. "What are you doing with him...?" She looked down. Saw her daughter. Smiling up.  
  
"Hi mom." The little girl said. Squeezing past. Into the house. Leaving him. Alone on the step. Cold.   
  
He just looked at her. Unsure. She examined his face for a while. Her eyes reading him. He shifted uncomfortably. Feet wet.  
  
She looked down. To the ground. Playing with the edge of the door. With her shoe. Arching her foot. Clapping it on and off. Indecisive.  
  
Suddenly. The little girl was back. Munching through a box of cereal. The box singing. "What's wrong?"  
  
Both turned to her. Crunching away. "Aren't you going to let him in? It's cold outside mom."  
  
Clearing her throat. "Nothing baby. Nothing's wrong." The woman stepped back. Letting him step in. "Come in." She forced a smile. Reluctantly.  
  
He stepped in. Reluctantly. Only moving so she could shut the door. Then he stood there.  
  
The woman turned down to her daughter. Noticing her purple hands. Cold. "Where are your gloves?"  
  
The little girl smiled widely. Splitting to her ears. "I gave them to Nikky." Her friend.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because it was in her best interest."  
  
"Is that so?" The woman smiled. Coyly. Reaching out her hands to grab up the little girl. Who screamed. And dropped the box. Scattering cereal. Laughing hysterically. As fingers tickled her.   
  
Letting her down. The girl ran off. Disappearing in the kitchen.  
  
"This is going to seem like a silly question." The woman paused. Palming her elbow. "Are you Danny Witwer?"  
  
He looked at her blankly. Then. After searching his mind. Shook his head slowly.   
  
She put a hand to her chest. Her face broke. "You look like him." Smiling embarrassingly. She shifted slightly. "Can I take your coat?"  
  
"Who's Danny Witwer?" He asked. He looked at it. Then unshouldered it. Handing it over to her.  
  
"Someone who worked for the government." She smiled and took it to the closet. Coming back. "He was killed. A while ago--. I guess that's rather silly, isn't it?" She bit her lower lip. Then noticed the blood stain on his shirt.  
  
"Oh my god. Are you alright?" She came forward. Holding her hands toward the crimson bloom. But didn't touch. Her face worried.  
  
"I think so." He answered. Looking towards his chest. There was pain. But not enough to cause him grief.  
  
"He's on drugs." The little girl passed by. Pulling her lips up from a straw. Dark. And blue. Stuck in a carton of chocolate milk.  
  
The woman turned an eye to the girl. "Agatha...." she scorned. But turned back to the man's smile. Soft. And sweet. Finding the humor.  
  
"Why don't you let me take a look at that?" She reached out for his hand. And taking his. Led him into the back room. He followed. Without protest.   
  
She led him through the house. Expansive. And homely. Into a room. Of black and white pictures. Some framed in black. Others in wood. All black. And white. All absolutely stunning.   
  
An old man. A swing set. A beach. A crack in the cement. Gorgeous.   
  
"So where do you come from?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Her brow furrowed. "You don't know where you came from?"  
  
"No. My house?" She had him sit down on a chair. And he did. His eyes on the pictures. Admiring them.  
  
She put her hand across his forehead. He looked up at her. Without moving his head.   
  
"You're warm, but you don't have a fever," She smiled. "What's your name?"  
  
"I don't know." He coughed. She flinched.  
  
"You're bleeding." She reached over. And handed him a towel. He wiped at the blood.  
  
"Did you fall?" Guessing a concussion. She felt his head again. But felt no bumps. Nor tenderness.  
  
"I don't remember."   
  
"That's strange..." She spoke. Kneeling in front of him. "You don't mind do you?" Her hands were at the buttons of his shirt. "I use to be a nurse."  
  
He shook his head. Then looked at the pictures. "Did you take all these?" She looked around to the pictures.  
  
"I did."  
  
"I like them." She stopped. And looked up at him. Surprise in her eyes.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
She faltered. Before shaking her head. "Nothing. It's just that...that's exactly what Danny said."  
  
He just looked at her.  
  
"Are you sure you're not. At least. Related to him?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
She tested it. "What do you take in your coffee?"  
  
"I can't remember."  
  
Abandoning the idea. She went back to her work. Finishing unbuttoning. And pulling his shirt back. Letting him take it off.   
  
It revealed bruises. Bleeding wounds. And tattoos. She worked quietly. Him watching. As she cleaned up the blood. And dressed the wounds. Admiring the tattoos.  
  
"These are nice."   
  
He looked at them. Holding the expression that this was the first time he'd seen them. Ever. One on his forearm. One on his shoulder.  
  
She looked at the brace on his wrist. Then paused for another time.  
  
She started to step away. "It doesn't make sense."  
  
"What doesn't?" He asked. Watching her. Concerned.   
  
"Danny wore the same thing when he was...shot." She put a hand over her mouth. And stood. Pacing the room. Looking at him then up at the ceiling.  
  
Then. She stopped. And stuck out a hand. "Please," she whispered. "I don't - I don't want this to sound rude but. Could you just - just wait outside until my husband gets home?"  
  
"Sure." He put his shirt back on. Then stood. Following her as she went back out to the door.  
  
She grabbed his coat from the closet. And gave it to him. Opening the door.  
  
He stepped out. Turning to face her.  
  
Her daughter was soon at her leg. "What's wrong?"  
  
But with one last look. She shut the door.  
  
The man stood there for a time. Before the wind got to him. Then he put on his jacket. And sat down. Waiting. 


	4. the fight

CHAPTER FOUR  
  
"Hi Mister." He looked up from his knees. His arm clutched about him. Freezing. His wet pant legs. Heavy with ice.  
  
The little girl wore a coat. A hat. And carried a blanket. She handed it to him.   
  
"Thank you." He put it on. Over his knees. Dark. And Blue.  
  
"Mom doesn't know I'm out here." The girl sat down beside him. And looked at him. He was looking at the ground. "So I can't stay long."  
  
"Oh yeah." She reached into her pocket. And pulled out a sandwich. Wrapped in plastic. "I made this for you." The jelly tore the bread. The peanut butter kept it together.  
  
"It's my favorite kind." She handed it over. He looked at it. But didn't feel like eating.  
  
"I should probably go..." but her words trailed off. As a Lexus pulled up. Much like his. But darker. And running. "Daddy!" The girl leapt up. And ran off the porch. "Daddy's home!"  
  
A man got out. Short. Burly. Shaved head. He snatched up the girl. And gave her a kiss. Big and messy. The little girl laughed. High. And giggling.   
  
The man carried the girl. The man on the porch did not move. Watching from the shadows.  
  
"Dad! You'll never guess what I found today..." but the man stopped. One foot on the step of the porch. Stricken.  
  
Slowly. He let the girl down. "Go inside."  
  
"But dad..." the girl was confused.  
  
"Go. Now." the man said. Sternly. Doing little more than raising an arm. His face on the man. On the porch. Clutched by the shadows. Blanket on the ground. As he stood there.  
  
"Daddy..." she hooked.  
  
Both men's eyes rolled on her. She looked back and forth. Her dad conceding. "Agatha. Go." There was no room for courtesy.   
  
A frown crossed her face. Her arms went about her chest. And she stomped through the front door.  
  
"Who are you. What are you doing here?" The man was confused. As the woman had been. But more upset.  
  
"I came with her..." the man spoke quietly. Pointing to where the girl had been.  
  
The dad looked suddenly angry. "Who are you?"  
  
"I don't know..."  
  
The dad came fast up onto the porch. Reaching out. Taking the man by the throat. Shoving him against the banister. Shining light on the man's face.  
  
Anyone today. Could be a threat. People were still mad. That he'd killed him. The father of Precrime. People had been outraged. They didn't know the truth.  
  
Then the dad's face fell.  
  
"What the fu-?..." he shook his head. "Witwer...?"  
  
The man shook his head. As mush as he could. "Your wife called me that."  
  
"You talked to my wife?" The dad was angry again.  
  
"Yes."  
  
He touched noses. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to pull. But I want you to stay the fuck away from my family."  
  
"Why?"   
  
"Because you're dead. You hear me? You're dead."  
  
"I'm not dead." It seemed impervious. The way he said it.  
  
The dad squinted. Hard. A crease in his brow. Hate was there. Pressing that crease.  
  
The man soon found. A knee in his belly. He doubled over. Coughing.   
  
"You're dead." The dad was saying.   
  
The knee hurt worse. Because of the bullet wound.  
  
"What's your name?" The dad kicked him in the chest. Beneath his arm.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
The dad kicked his face.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"I don't know." Through blood.  
  
"What's your name!? Who sent you?!"  
  
"I don't know. I don't know."  
  
"What are you doing here? Who sent you? Who remade you? Why are you alive? You're suppose to be dead. Why aren't you dead?"  
  
Each question. Followed by a kick.  
  
Each kick. Followed by the same.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Fight back you son of the bitch!"  
  
The man lay curled. Jerked around pain. The dad grabbed him by the coat. Lifting him. And throwing him against the wall.  
  
But the man would not fight back.  
  
"Fight back!"   
  
The dad punched him. Fists pelting. His cheeks. The blood. Splashing. Flying. Until words cut in.  
  
"John! What are you doing?!" Hands grabbed for fists. Had trouble. Then stopped them.  
  
The man crumpled. Hugging his knees. Afraid. Crying.  
  
"What'd you do. Daddy?" The little girl. Looking to the crumpled man. Face bloody. Then to her father. Knuckles bloody.   
  
The dad fell slack.  
  
The crumpled man shook.  
  
The little girl stared.   
  
"Come inside." The woman coaxed. Pulling her husband. And daughter. Into the house. Closing it behind them.  
  
Leaving the crumpled man. 


	5. the comfort

you have no idea how much this means to me. thank you so much, i wish i could give you all a big hug!!  
  
CHAPTER FIVE  
  
"Don't cry mister." The little girl was there again. A tiny hand reaching through his arms. To pick up his face.  
  
He wiped at the blood. And the tears. With his coat sleeve.   
  
"You're alright." She said. Touching his shoulder.  
  
"Daddy was just mad."  
  
She put out a hand. And he looked at it. Sighing with a smile. She took his. And helped him up. Pulling him to his feet. Heavily using the side of the house.  
  
She led him to the bench. On the edge of the porch. And let him sit down. The pain hurt. A lot.  
  
"He doesn't hate you. Don't cry." She drew the blanket over his shoulders. Climbing up onto the seat.  
  
She stood there. Looking at him for a long while. Until he stopped crying.  
  
Reaching into her coat pocket. She pulled out some tissues. And blotted at his face. Cleaning away the blood.  
  
He sat silently. Looking at her. Her little hand on his shoulder. For support.  
  
"There." She rocked back. Standing tall. Looking at her cleanup. "All better."  
  
Then. Seeing the tears still in his eyes.  
  
She leaned forward.  
  
And hugged him.  
  
"He didn't mean to hurt you." She spoke softly. Crunching him in her tiny arms. "He was just mad. And scared."  
  
"Why aren't you scared?" The man spoke. Wiping at new wetness. Beneath his nose. Blood.  
  
"Because you're a good person." She smiled as she sat back. "I can tell."  
  
"Here." She took a fresh tissue. Held it against his nose. "Did you know your snot runs down your throat?"  
  
The man shook his head.  
  
"I learned it from Nikky. She's almost a month older than me."  
  
"How old are you?" She asked. Pinching his nose.  
  
"Wait." Before he could speak. "You don't know. Do you?"  
  
He shook his head. She took the tissue from his nose. Sighing. Looking at it. Rumpled and red. His nose stopped bleeding.  
  
"Daddy said you were dead. Is that true?"  
  
"I don't know." Tears came forward. An emotion he almost didn't like. But it felt good. Heating his eyes. The rest of him cold.  
  
Digging beneath his coat. Then his half-open shirt. She put her little palm against his chest. Then. Took up his hand.   
  
He looked down. Through his open shirt. To bruises. Dark. And blue. As she put his own hand against his chest.  
  
"Feel anything?"  
  
"No."  
  
Frowning. She removed his hand.   
  
Then. Leaned down. And put her ear against him. He was surprised at how warm she was.  
  
He began to reach up. To touch her little hooded head. When she moved. "There!" She replaced her ear with her finger. Then his hand again. "There it is!" Excited.  
  
"Do you feel it now?" He waited. Then felt the dull thump. And counter thump.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It's pretty huh?" She smiled. "You're not dead."  
  
"It's beautiful..." he said quietly.   
  
She sat down. Took his other arm. And draped it over her shoulder. Leaning into him. He looked down at her. And she looked at the front door.  
  
"I like you. You're different."  
  
"I like you." He said. But didn't smile.  
  
She looked up. And she smiled.   
  
Suddenly. She reached up. And plucked at his nose.  
  
"Got your nose." She dropped her hand. Wiggling her thumb. Sticking up between her fingers. Beaming.  
  
"That's your thumb."  
  
"I know." Her smile fell. "It's a dumb trick." She undid her hand. Looking at it. "But dad use to do it all the time to me. It made me feel better." She looked up at him. The smile gone. "Do you feel better?"  
  
He took a breath. "No." The pain still hurt. And his eyes were still warm.  
  
Her little face twisted. She licked her lips. Little tongue.   
  
"I better go back inside." She finally said. "Mom and dad will wonder where I am."  
  
She shook herself off the seat. And went to the side of the porch. Before she disappeared though. She turned. And smiled. And waved.  
  
The man waved back.  
  
The front door opened. The woman stood there. Clutched about herself. She cleared her throat. Wrapped in a long sweater. A wad of Kleenex in her fist.  
  
Her face was red. And her thin neck. Was stretched. Like she'd been yelling. Straining.  
  
He rose up. Faltered with a hand to his chest. Before standing fully.  
  
  
  
"My husband apologizes for what he did." She was almost sad. Looking at him. Pathetic. Hurt. Like a dog in the rain.  
  
The man just looked at her. Cold. Alone.  
  
"You should go home." The woman said. "It would be best."   
  
Wide palming his wounds. Feeling the tenderness at his chest.   
  
He turned. Looking out from the porch. To the night. Dark. And blue. The rain had begun again. Drizzling. Lapping puddles.  
  
He stepped out. Down the steps. Into the rain.  
  
With his presence. The rain turned hard. Slashing. Like chewing teeth. Turning the asphalt to mush. And puddles to fusillades.  
  
H e stood still. Blinking. Looking. Not knowing.  
  
He didn't know where home was. So he stood there. Sad again. He didn't like it. Not remembering.   
  
The woman refused to stray from the doorway. "You need to go home." She spoke again. Like to a little child. Whose visit had now ended.  
  
"I don't know where home is." He spoke softly. He turned back. A tear falling. Gold against the silver rain.  
  
And she had to squeeze her face. To keep from doing the same.  
  
His face peach. The peach bruised.  
  
There was a long silence. Awkward. The man stood. And stared. The woman twisted. And thought. And fretted.   
  
"If you'd accept." She turned behind her. Looking back. Apprehensively. Before looking out again. "We can give you a room here. For tonight. As an apology."  
  
The little girl came trotting up. Looking at the man. Smiling. He smiled back.  
  
The woman looked down to her daughter. And stepped in front of her. Protecting her. From a violence that wasn't there. An emotion that wasn't there. A mistrust that shouldn't be there.  
  
He looked up at the woman. She swallowed. Her eyes red. From crying. As he had been.   
  
"Will you accept?" She stood like stone.  
  
He nodded slowly. Shaking in the cold. Wet. Rain.   
  
She stepped onto the porch. Her daughter following. As she took up the dropped blanket. "Come in out of the rain." She said. Soft.  
  
He hesitated. Before he did. Coming up. She handed him the blanket.  
  
He pulled it around him.  
  
The woman turned back inside. Her daughter following. Smiling back at the man.  
  
The man followed them. Smiling back at the little girl. 


	6. the night

Alex, Bookbinder's Daughter, Conookie, Jenni, and SpadesJade...goddamn i love you guys and you never cease to impress me! *big hugs!*  
  
CHAPTER SIX  
  
He lay silent. Listening down the hall. The argument. Over the situation. Over him.  
  
The family. All three. Had moved to one room. Door locked.  
  
But only the little girl was in the room now. The parents were downstairs. Yelling. From the kitchen.  
  
The man could hear it through the vent.  
  
He moved. And the springs in the futon squealed. Drowning out the words.   
  
He did not want to hear them.  
  
He rose. The blankets coming off. As he stood. And went for the bathroom. Down the hall.   
  
But at the bedroom door. He stopped. The one with the girl behind it. He stopped. And put his ear against the door. It was silent inside.  
  
He tapped gently. With his knuckle. And he heard the bed springs creek. Muffled feet shuffling. Across the carpet. Coming towards the door.  
  
"Hello?" She asked. Her hands against the door. Her ear pressed against the wood. Listening to him breathe.  
  
"Hi." He said.  
  
"We have to be quiet." She warned. Looking towards the vent. Not wanting to be caught.  
  
"Okay." he answered. And squatted down. To her level. His palm about where hers was spread. On the other side of the door.  
  
"Are they keeping you awake?" she spoke. Then bit off her own words. "Wait. Knock once for yes. Twice for no."  
  
He knocked once.  
  
"Me too." She whispered. Smelling the varnish. Old. And faded. She sighed. And fell against the wood. Liking it. Loving it. Feeling its warmth. She giggled.  
  
"Can you guess what this is?" She knocked. Pausing. Two knocks. Pause. Knock.  
  
He knocked twice.  
  
"I don't know either." She smiled. And laughed quietly. At her trick. "I made it up." Then. She resumed. "How 'bout this one?"  
  
Seven Knocks. Pause. Three knocks. Pause. Three knocks. Thirteen knocks. End.  
  
He knocked twice.  
  
"It's 'Mary had a Little Lamb'." She said. Pulling back her hand. Looking at her fist. "It's really old."  
  
There was silence for a moment. Even from the kitchen. They were coming.  
  
"Will you stay here?" She asked.  
  
Pausing. He knocked twice.  
  
"Why not?" He looked down his borrowed pajamas. Dark. And blue. To his chest. Where bruises were.  
  
He looked at the door. Imagining what her face looked like.  
  
"Please stay," she whimpered softly, "with me?"  
  
He waited for a long time. Just as he heard feet. Coming up the stairs.  
  
"I like you..."  
  
And as he rose up from the door.  
  
He gave it one soft knock. 


	7. the laundry

i just felt all tickly good tonight and decided to update. hope you don't mind...  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
"Hello," he spoke. Hands behind his back. As he approached the clothesline. The clipped sheets blowing. Wet shirts drying. Glowing in the sun. Beautiful.  
  
"Hello." The woman smiled. Polite. Held back. Hugging tight one of the rolled blankets. Taking the pins from her lips.  
  
"Hi!" Agatha came from behind a sheet. Hitting it away. As it tried to wrap around her.  
  
He smiled at the little girl. Then looked to the woman.  
  
"Could you hear us last night?" She was worried.  
  
He nodded.  
  
"I'm sorry." She said. Quietly. Putting the rolled blanket. Into a basket beside her. "We didn't mean to be so loud. It's just - " she looked at his eyes. And her explanation ended.  
  
"You kept crying out in your sleep, I could hear you down the hall...do you remember what the dream was?"  
  
The man shook his head.  
  
"Are you alright from last night?"   
  
"I think so." His palm went to his chest. Finding pain. His head. Finding bruises.  
  
"He didn't hurt you too bad, did he? He really didn't mean to...it was dark and it'd been a long day..." she was lost in thought. Thinking out loud. "...I know that's no excuse for it, there shouldn't be, but -"  
  
She looked up. Seeing him stare at her. His head tilted. Blinking slowly. He didn't care.  
  
"We should take you to a doctor." She said. Returning to the line. Pulling clips. "I would help you but I don't think my husband -"  
  
He was still just looking at her.  
  
The man blinked. Then looked at the line.  
  
"Were these here all night?" The man asked. Looking at the sheets. And shirts. They looked wet.  
  
"Yes," the woman smiled. Rolling another sheet. "It's still damp. But they smell better, see? " She held it up. And he leaned down into it. Closing his eyes. Breathing it in.  
  
"You're right." He said. Leaning back. Liking the smell.   
  
The woman brought it up. And sniffed it again. To see if it had changed. Then smiled slightly. And put it in the basket.  
  
He looked down to the sheets. "Do you need help?"  
  
She looked to the basket. Then back to him. "No, no thanks..."  
  
"I can take you into the city later today." She broke. "Maybe you'll remember something."  
  
"That'd be nice." He said. Quiet. Looking towards the house. It's sides gleaming in the sun.  
  
"Can we go to the park?" Agatha asked. Sliding into the talk.  
  
"Sweetie," the woman began. But her daughter's pouting face. Stopped her.  
  
"Please mom? Pleeeeeeaaaaazzzzzz?"   
  
"Is that alright?" She turned to the man. His eyes never left hers. And he nodded.   
  
"Alright," she said. "after we take uh - I'm sorry, I don't know what to call you." She looked at the man. He just looked back.  
  
"Can we name him Catcher?" Agatha asked. Jumping up and down.   
  
"Nikky has a dog named Catcher and he's really ugly, I think he was shut in the door or something when he was a puppy, so that name is wasted on him."  
  
"Agatha." The woman reprimanded.  
  
The woman laughed apologetically. Crossing her arms. "Honey, we can't give him a name. He's a human, not a dog." She turned to him.   
  
She smiled adjustingly. And he just smiled.  
  
"Oh come on, mom. It's a good name!"  
  
"It's fine with me." The man spoke.  
  
The woman looked up. Surprised. "Are you joking?"  
  
"Should I?" he asked slowly.  
  
"No," the woman half smiled. Perplexed. "I just..."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. And finally the smile broke loose. On her face. "Fine then. We'll call you Catcher..."  
  
"Hi Catcher," the little girl tugged on his shirt. "I'm Agatha." She smiled wide. As "Catcher" leaned down.   
  
"Hi Agatha," he took her outstretched hand. And kissed it gently. "I'm Catcher..." The little girl blushed.  
  
"This is Lara, my mom." The little girl motioned up to her mother. Taking the attention off herself. Her rosy cheeks shining.  
  
"Hello Lara," Catcher rose to his feet. Taking her hand. "I'm Catcher."  
  
The woman smiled. And shook her head. But he bent down. And kissed her hand. Anyway. Her cheeks turned pink.  
  
She pulled her hand away. And cleared her throat. To try and dispose of the smile. Going back to the clothesline.   
  
"See mom?" the little girl went up next to Lara. "I told you he was nice."  
  
"We've got a real gentleman here Agatha." The woman said softly. Rubbing her daughter's hair.   
  
"We better watch ourselves." 


	8. the crayon

CHAPTER EIGHT - THE CRAYON  
  
"Mom would have a fit if she knew you were in here." Her crayon never went outside the lines.  
  
"Do you want me to leave?" He was lying on his back. Facing the ceiling. Something like a dull ache. Was eating his chest.  
  
"No." She said. Dropping the red crayon. Picking up the green one. She flipped the paper around. Her tongue coming out. From between her lips. Helping her color.  
  
"Have you ever been to a doctor before?" Agatha asked. Head tilted.  
  
"No, does it hurt?" His eyes went to the girl's back. She sighed. But didn't look at him.  
  
"Sometimes. Depends on what they do..."  
  
"I don't want it to hurt."   
  
Agatha sat up. Turning around. Before coming towards him. She crawled up onto the bed. On her hands and knees. Over his head. Looking at him. "I won't let it. I promise."  
  
His mouth twitched. She squinted. Then leaned in close. Looking hard.  
  
"You have two different colored eyes." She said.  
  
"I do?"  
  
"Uh huh, this one's darker." She pointed to his left one. With the tip of her crayon. "That comes from inbreeding, you know."  
  
"What's "inbreeding"?"  
  
She shook her head. "I don't know. But I bet it's bad." She backed off. And sat on the other side of the bed. Facing the wall now.  
  
There was silence for a moment.  
  
"Do you get mad?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"About not remembering things." She turned back to him. And he turned over. Onto his belly.  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
"How come you don't express it?"  
  
"I don't know how."  
  
"You could stomp your foot, or yell, or something." She looked to her crayon. "When I was little, I use to try and color on things, but look," she reached out. And touched the tip to his arm. It made a negative sound. And made no streak. "It doesn't work on anything but paper."  
  
"Does that make you mad?"  
  
"Yeah, sometimes I really want to draw all over everything."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"To make the world prettier." She sighed. Sadly. And looked out the window. "To make me feel better."  
  
"Are you sick?" He got up. Came around. And sat down next to her. That pain. Fading slightly. When he was near her.  
  
"No," she looked at him. "It's not like that."  
  
"What's it like then?"  
  
"It's like...I feel sad inside and I don't know why." She reached out. And took his arm. Leaning against him. "But I don't feel sad when you're here, you make me feel good."  
  
He looked down at her. And after a moment. She looked up. "Do I make you feel good?"   
  
"You make my heart stop hurting." He said. Slowly. And she frowned at him. Her little eyebrows furrowing.  
  
"Is it cause of your wound?" She asked. Knowing it had never been covered.  
  
"No, it hurts deeper."  
  
"When does your heart hurt?"  
  
"All the time..."  
  
"That's not good Catcher," she reached up. And put her hand against his chest. "You should watch that." 


	9. the city

CHAPTER NINE - THE CITY  
  
  
  
"Have a nice day Anderton family and companion." The [auto] chirped. As they stepped out. Into the bustling hustle. Of the city. Washington D.C.  
  
The old buildings. The past. Rotting. And gray. The new buildings. The future. Gleaming. And silver.  
  
So close to each other. Yet so far away. As well.  
  
"Wow." Catcher saw the world. For the very first time. Leaning back. Looking at the buildings.  
  
"Pretty huh?" Agatha asked. Holding her mother's hand.  
  
"It's beautiful." He'd said that before. About his own heartbeat.  
  
"Come on!" Agatha called. Some ways up the walk. Her mother pulling.  
  
Catcher rushed to catch up. Walking with them. As they hit the sidewalks. Merging into the crowds.  
  
A sea of people. He had to stop. To look at them all.  
  
All sorts of people. Amazing people. Ordinary people. Fat people. Skinny people. Tall. Short. Strange. Normal. In couples. Alone. Talking on phones. Talking to themselves. Not talking. Carrying bags. Not carrying bags. Walking dogs. Not walking dogs. Living.  
  
He watched them all. As they passed by.  
  
"Excuse me." They'd say. "Pardon me." When they'd brush his shoulder. Some sternly. Some compassionately. He watched them all.   
  
Smiling.  
  
He looked down. But saw no one he recognized.  
  
His smile fell.   
  
The bustle went by. With him in the middle. Motionless.  
  
He looked to the left. No one.   
  
He looked to the right. No one.  
  
His heart sped up. The faces weren't familiar. He didn't recognize them. They didn't look friendly.   
  
Where were they?  
  
"Catcher!" Agatha called below the living sea.  
  
"Agatha! Come back!" Lara called from behind.  
  
Agatha ran to him. "Come on Catcher," she smiled up. "We're getting lunch."  
  
She took him by the hand. And led him back towards her mom.  
  
Once together. Again. They made their way through the crowd. Agatha holding his hand.  
  
They turned into a diner. Stuck between two bigger buildings.   
  
Nothing greeted them. Lara looked up. Seeing no scanner. Anywhere.  
  
A woman went by. Big black hair. Poofy. She wore a checkered dress. And went about on roller-skates. She had a notepad in her hand. The theme was a 70's diner. "Michelle" was on her nametag.  
  
"How you doin' sweetcheeks?" New York accent. Michelle, the waitress, snapped her gum. Looking at Catcher. Before turning to Agatha. "Darlin'?" Greeting her. Then to Lara. "Ma'am. Three of you?"  
  
Lara nodded.  
  
The waitress led them back to a table. And sat them down. Lara and Agatha on one side. Catcher on the other.   
  
"Can I get you anything to drink?" The waitress asked. Handing out menus.   
  
"Iced tea." Lara said.  
  
"Milk." Agatha said smiling.  
  
"Same." Catcher agreed.  
  
The waitress left. And Catcher leaned over the menu. Lara watching him intently.   
  
"Do you remember anything yet?" She asked. And he looked up.  
  
"No."  
  
"Nothing at all?"  
  
"Nothing." Catcher assured.  
  
There was a pause.  
  
Lara leaned back. "I have to use the restroom," she turned to her daughter, "do you?"  
  
"Nope." Agatha said. Also looking over the menu.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Mhm." She didn't look up from the menu. As her mother left.  
  
Just as he disappeared. Into the bathroom. The drinks came.  
  
"One iced tea." She set at the empty spot. Then reached over and set down Agatha's tumbler. "One milk."  
  
"And another milk for slick." She winked at Catcher. As she set the tumbler down. Dark. And blue.  
  
"You want to order now?"  
  
"Can I have a grilled cheese sandwich, please?" Agatha asked. Michelle jotted it down. "You?" She turned to Catcher.  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"You have to eat something or you'll get sick." Agatha commented. Drawing a finger over her menu. "He'll have a grilled cheese sandwich too please."  
  
"So two grilled cheese sandwiches?"  
  
"Yup." Agatha set the menu down.  
  
"And what about her?"  
  
"She'll have a salad with Ranch on the side." Agatha folded her hands. Looking at Catcher smiling. Who was looking at the waitress. Staring. Who was looking at him. Picking up the menus.   
  
"She likes you." Agatha whispered. As the waitress rolled away. Leaning over the table. Her chin in her crossed wrists.  
  
"You think?" Catcher watched her go.  
  
Agatha sat up. And nodded. "Do you like her?" Putting her lips down on the straw.   
  
"No."  
  
"Good." Agatha preferred. Blowing into her milk.  
  
The bubbles sprung up. Making a popping noise. Catcher looked at her. Amused.  
  
"Try it." She suggested. Putting her lips down. And doing it again.  
  
He did so. And the bubbles exploded in his cup.  
  
Soon. It became a contest. Each one blowing their hardest. Until finally. Agatha leaned back. Puffed up her chest. And blew with all her might.  
  
The milk ruptured onto her face. And she shook with laughter. Clutching at her sides.  
  
Catcher laughed too. Until Agatha's face fell.  
  
"Mom's coming!" Agatha rose the alarm. And they both set into action. Mopping up the milk. Using sleeves. Napkins. Anything they could.  
  
Her mother rounded the corner. But got stuck behind a man with a large tray. Buying them time.  
  
"Where do these go?!" Agatha held a wad of soppy napkins.  
  
"Here," Catcher put out his hand. Took them. And shoved them into his coat pocket.  
  
Finishing. They both sat back. As Lara sat down.   
  
"Hi mom." Agatha squeezed out her smile. Covering it with her hands.  
  
"What?" She looked at Agatha. Then Catcher. Who only shrugged. She glowered at them both.  
  
Then the food came. Michelle bringing it.  
  
She set it down without talking. Then left. Leaving the bill. And looking one last time at Catcher.   
  
"I told you." Agatha whispered to him.  
  
Smiling. She began peeling her sandwich apart. Catcher watched her. "I don't like crust. I'm allergic to it." She explained.   
  
"You are not allergic to it."  
  
"Am too! Look!" she raised her wrist. And peeled back the Band-Aid. Revealing a healing scrape. "I'm getting a rash. Allergic things give you rash."  
  
"Agatha, that's when you fell off your bike. And you're not allergic to crust, you just don't like it.  
  
"That's what I said!" She finished skinning the bread. Smiling deviously.  
  
Catcher looked down to his own plate. Fingering the crust. Tipping up the sandwich.  
  
"You should eat yours though, it's good for you." Agatha said through her first bite. "Grilled cheese is my favorite."  
  
"I thought peanut butter and jelly was." Catcher countered.  
  
"I like a lot of sandwiches." Agatha took another big bite. Nodding respectfully.  
  
"Don't talk with your mouth full." Lara warned. And turned away.  
  
Agatha flashed her a mouthful of cheese and bread. All chewed up to mush. Then closed it before she could see.  
  
After that. Their meal was quiet. Catcher and Agatha flicking smiles at each other. All throughout it. Till Lara caught them. And made them stop. With just one look.  
  
Agatha finished off her sandwich. "Done!" she announced. Lara was still poking her salad. And Catcher had barely eaten one half of his sandwich.  
  
"We're not." Lara said. Pulling out a beet. Eating it with a crunch. Glaring her down. Before smiling.  
  
Agatha slumped down her chair. A frown on her face. Then the boredom came. Her arms crossed about her. Waiting impatiently. Sighing every few seconds.  
  
Lara quietly ate her salad. Occasionally glancing up at Catcher. Who was poking at the remaining half of his sandwich.  
  
Then he looked up to Agatha. Suddenly. And she smiled. Obviously pleased.  
  
His face frowned. As he moved his feet beneath the table. Stepping on her toes. Sliding off. Because hers weren't long enough. To touch the floor.  
  
She stepped on his feet. A good step too.  
  
He pulled back. And stepped on hers. Sliding off.  
  
She stepped on his.  
  
He stepped on hers.  
  
"Foot WARS!!" Agatha screamed. Half the restaurant turning. Watching as they went at it.  
  
Agatha began to kick. Catcher kicked back. Stomping their feet on top of each other's. Bruising mostly his toes. She kicked hard.  
  
It started small. Like the milk bubbles had. Until the table shook. And as an end. Lara's half drunk iced tea. Bounced once. And spilled. Right onto her lap.  
  
"Agatha! Catcher!" she reproached them both. Surprised at the coldness. As it touched her legs. "Behave yourselves!"  
  
She wiped desperately at the dark blossom. Using her napkin.   
  
Agatha only laughed. Behind her hand. And Catcher couldn't hide the wide smile. 


	10. the doctor

CHAPTER TEN - THE DOCTOR  
  
The door rang. As they came through. The eye scanner. Scanning eyes. In order.  
  
First name basis. To make them feel more at home.  
  
"Hello Agatha. Hello Lara. Helloooo...o.ooo...ooo...oo..o..."  
  
Laura flashed a glance to Catcher. Her breath caught in her throat. Worried.   
  
He was looking at Agatha. And quickly. Lara put her hand out. Hanging onto her.  
  
Then she heard the receptionist shuffle.  
  
"Oh that silly thing." The receptionist came around. Bringing a chair with her. Setting it up. She stood atop it. And started smacking the scanner. With her hand. "It's been like that forever now. I keep telling the doctor to fix it."  
  
"hhh...h.h.h....h.h...hHH...Hello Ms. McClouch." It chirped. As it scanned the receptionist's eye.  
  
Lara let out her pent breath.  
  
"Ow. Mom, you're hurting my shoulder."  
  
Lara let go.  
  
"We're here for Catcher...I called yesterday..." Lara went to the counter. With the receptionist. Agatha stayed behind. And sat down beside Catcher.  
  
"Do you like your new name?" Agatha asked.  
  
He thought about it for a moment. Then nodded.   
  
"Is it better than your old name?"  
  
"I don't remember my old name."  
  
"Do you like it better then?"  
  
"I guess." He turned to her. "Do you like yours?"  
  
She scrunched up her face. "Not really. Dad says I was named after someone very important though."  
  
"Do you know who?"  
  
"Agatha obviously." She smirked. Rummaging through the magazines. That scanned her eyes. And called her name.  
  
"What name would you rather have?"  
  
"I don't know. Something good though."  
  
Lara came back and sat down. Looking at the stain on her skirt.  
  
"Mr. Catcher?" A large doctor lumbered in. Immediately. Quintessential. In a white coat. With a handlebar mustache. His words were gentle. As he probably was.  
  
Catcher got up. So did Lara. So did Agatha. But her mother caught her.  
  
"You stay out here."  
  
"Why?" Agatha asked.  
  
"You can play with a game."  
  
"Games are for babies." Agatha stamped. "I want to come with you."  
  
The doctor chuckled. "She's welcome to come in." He smiled. "It's just a routine exam, nothing to keep her from." He guided Agatha by the shoulder. When she went past. Lara followed. Then Catcher.  
  
Down the hall. First door on the right. They went in. And the door was closed behind them.  
  
"Up here if you will sir." The doctor patted the table. And Catcher got up. Looking nervous.   
  
For the first time. The doctor looked closely at his face.   
  
"What happened here?" The doctor asked. Pulling on some rubber gloves. Catcher turned to Lara.  
  
"He got into a fight." Lara answered for him.  
  
"He lost." Agatha announced.  
  
The doctor chuckled. His gloved hands on Catcher's face. Gently poking. Catcher winced.  
  
"Well, there's nothing here that won't heal."   
  
"What's this then?" he looked down at the brace. Still around Catcher's wrist.  
  
No one said anything. The doctor picked it up. Looked at it. Then began to take it off. Moving his wrist. He asked questions. Turning it back and forth. "Any tenderness?"  
  
Catcher shook his head.  
  
The doctor's bottom lip went out. "I guess you don't need to wear it then." And cast it to the side.  
  
Moving on. The doctor reached down. And pulled out a tray. Taking out a stethoscope. "Would you remove your jacket please?"  
  
Catcher did so. Looking towards Lara again. Agatha on her lap. Looking back at him. Smiling.  
  
As he finished stripping the jacket. The doctor came up. And blocked his vision. Reaching down. The doctor unbuttoned two buttons on his shirt. Pushing down the stethoscope. Against his chest.   
  
Catcher cringed. And the doctor noticed.  
  
Gloved hands went to Catcher's shirt. Unbuttoning the rest. Catcher looked up to Lara. Desperate. Lara stood and came over. Leaning up against the bed. Making Agatha stay in the chair.  
  
"My, my, my..." the doctor spoke. Pulling back the square of gauze. Finding the bullet wound. Unhealed. Still spitting blood. He flitted away. On heavy feet. "Haven't seen a real bullet wound like this in years. Most unnatural."  
  
He went about to his counters. Finding tools. A wad of folded gauze. Orange. A long tube. Dark. And blue. And a syringe. "If you would lie back please."  
  
Catcher did so. Swallowing hard. Looking at Lara. She stared back at him. His breath had become fast.  
  
Agatha came up. Despite her mother. Reaching out. She took his hand. Comforting him.  
  
The doctor chuckled. As he saw them together. And turned to Lara. Who smiled back in kind. But watched her daughter. Intently. Interested. At the trust that was there.  
  
The doctor played a song. On his lips. As he walked around. And came back.  
  
He set down the things. And turned to Catcher. Plucking the flaps of his shirt away. Tucking them beneath his back.  
  
Catcher twisted his eyebrows. Staring at Lara. Her face did the same. Confused. At his fear.  
  
"Here we are then." The doctor produced the syringe. Filled it up. Tapped it. Squirted it. Then started down on Catcher's arm.  
  
Catcher turned away. Agatha came around. And clamped her hands down. Just when the needle was about to touch his skin. It touched the back of her hand. Instead.  
  
"Agatha. The doctor's trying to-" but she wasn't listening.  
  
  
  
"What is that?" She asked.  
  
The doctor pulled back. Not alarmed. Just reactively.  
  
"It's an anesthesia." He smiled widely.  
  
"What's "anesthesia"?" She had trouble pronouncing it.  
  
"It's something that will make him not feel any pain."  
  
"Why would he feel pain? I told him I wouldn't let you hurt him."  
  
"Ma'am?" The doctor looked to Lara. Who took her daughter back.  
  
"Agatha, go wait outside."  
  
"I want to be in here." She said.  
  
"Go." Her mother said sternly. Taking her elbow. Forcing the point with a soft squeeze.  
  
"Ow! Fine, I'm going." She spoke over her shoulder as she left. "But if you hurt him, I'm going to hurt you." and she meant it.  
  
Lara's cheeks reddened. The same way they had. When Catcher had kissed her hand. "I apologize for my daughter."  
  
She was so embarrassed.  
  
The doctor chuckled still. He seemed to like to do that. A lot. "It's quite alright. Children these days are very protective of their father's."   
  
"He's not -" but the doctor cut her off.  
  
"Shall we proceed?"  
  
Lara moved up to the head of the table thing. Looking down at Catcher. Sweat had broken out across his brow. And his eyes were wide. Looking at her. Scared.  
  
His eyes closed. As the needle went into his arm. As it had initially intended to do. And a whimper escaped him.  
  
"This anesthesia may cause him to be sick a while after I clean this wound. That's how it naturally is." He assured. And Lara nodded.  
  
The doctor peeled back the dressing. Once more. Poking his finger around the wound.   
  
Lara looked down at Catcher. Whose head had fallen to the side. His eyelids fluttering. His lips moving. But saying nothing. Then. Suddenly. He jerked. And faced her. With his eyes still closed.  
  
"Lara? Lara?" he whispered softly. Making her bend down.   
  
"I'm here..." she said.  
  
"Watch my heart...watch it for me..." his whisper faded away. Until he was out.  
  
The doctor was busy scratching at the wound. When Lara looked up.   
  
Throughout the procedure. Her eyes became fixated on Catcher's toe. Which twitched. When the doctor touched the wound.  
  
In a matter of minutes. The doctor set up a sort of rubber ring around the hole. Then took the blue tube. And laid its end in the middle. Then hooked it up to his sink. Nearby.  
  
He ran water over the wound. Cleaning up the blood. Before he took to it with stitches. And finally gauzed it back up.   
  
"I couldn't seem to find the bullet," the doctor grunted as he pulled off his gloves. "It must have fallen out. The wound's cleaned now, so there's no chance of infection. But like I told you, that anesthesia's going to make him woozy for a day or so after he wakes up. Just till it gets cleaned out of him."  
  
"He can't remember anything..." she said suddenly. The doctor winked an eyebrow at her. Before going to his head. Touching it gently with his hands. Feeling it like a piece of fruit.  
  
"There seems to be no fracture with which that would account for it. And besides his face, there's nothing wrong. It might just be a temporary case of amnesia." He smiled kindly.  
  
In the back of her mind. She seriously doubted that.  
  
He looked at her. But she was staring. Enveloped. At Catcher's chest.  
  
"Don't worry ma'am. He'll be right as rain in 24 hours."  
  
"Thank you." She answered automatically.   
  
Lara found herself chewing on her thumbnail. As the doctor briefly touched her shoulder. And left the room. 


	11. the couch

CHAPTER ELEVEN - THE COUCH  
  
Lara looked at Catcher. Nestled in the couch. A blanket over him. Rocking slightly. Mumbling words in a whisper. There was sweat on his brow.  
  
"Mommy?" Lara looked up from him.   
  
"Hey baby," Lara yawned. And rubbed her eyes. As her daughter came forward. Holding her plush cat. Mosey. Stretched and old.  
  
"What are you doing out of bed?"  
  
"I couldn't sleep." Which was an obvious lie. She'd probably been sleeping great.  
  
"Did the doctor hurt him?" She turned to Catcher. Looking at his clammy face.  
  
  
  
"No, he just cleaned up his cut. And gave him some medicine."  
  
"Is that what the needle was for?"  
  
Lara nodded.  
  
"I don't like needles. Neither does Catcher."  
  
"Did he tell you that?"  
  
"No, but nobody likes needles. Not even junkies, right? That's why they use those inhalers..."  
  
Lara closed her eyes. "Where did you learn that?"  
  
Agatha was silent. Even when her mom looked at her again.  
  
No doubt. She learned it from John.  
  
Speaking of which. "Do you know where your daddy is?"  
  
Agatha shook her head. "He's not home." She didn't seem mad. Or sad. Or concerned. She just simply shrugged it off. Uncaringly.  
  
Lara. Regretfully. Was beginning to feel the same way.  
  
John was gone so much now. She too had stopped noticing. If he was ever here. Or not.  
  
"Do you still love him?"  
  
It snapped her out of thought.  
  
"Who? Your daddy?"   
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Of course I do, sweetie..."  
  
"I don't." the comment sent Lara back.  
  
  
  
"Agatha. That's a horrible thing to say." It came automatically.  
  
"But it's true..."  
  
And Lara knew it was. Even in her own heart. The feeling of love was failing. It had been for six years.  
  
"Go back to bed."  
  
Somehow. Agatha knew that was going to be her reaction. And she accepted it.  
  
"He's drooling mom." Agatha crouched down. Looking at Catcher.  
  
"I know," she turned back to him. And dabbed lightly at the spit. "Go back upstairs and go to sleep, alright?"  
  
"Goodnight mom."  
  
"Goodnight puddin' bear. Kisses." A silly name. Agatha looked warily. Then leaned in. And kissed her mom.  
  
"I love you baby." Lara gave her daughter a big squeeze.  
  
"I love you too."   
  
And she went up the stairs.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
She heard a groan from the other room. And lifted up her head. Craning her neck. Seeing nothing but paper. Dark. And blue.  
  
She'd fallen asleep. Head on the table. And the paper became stuck to her forehead.  
  
She pulled it off. Smiling at herself. Before there was another groan. Rising on wobbly legs. She went to the door. To see Agatha standing next to Catcher. Still in her pajamas. Still holding her cat. Watching him.  
  
"Agatha?" Lara came up. And put her hands on her shoulders. Kneeling down beside her.  
  
Agatha barely turned back. "He's dreaming."  
  
"Yes he is." Lara kissed the side of her daughter's head. Leaving her lips there. Smelling her soft hair.  
  
"I wonder what he's dreaming about..." her head tilted away. Interested.  
  
"I don't know, but we better let him get some more sleep." She patted her on the bum. Trying to shoo her off. But Agatha only turned.  
  
"Can he stay here mommy?" Lara reached up. And wiped the sleep from Agatha's eyes.  
  
"He has his own home."  
  
"But he's alone there. And he's scared." She frowned.  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
"He told me."  
  
"When?"  
  
"He's always scared." Agatha turned back to Catcher. "I can tell. He doesn't like being alone. It makes his heart hurt."  
  
"Oh honey," Lara wrapped her in her arms. Hugging her warmly. "He's not alone."  
  
"If he goes away he'll be alone" There were tears in Agatha's eyes. Raw emotion. Unobstructed. "He doesn't have anybody."  
  
Lara felt the heat in her eyes. But held back the companion tears.  
  
"He's the only one that likes me mom. He's my only friend." She said sadly. A tear slipping.  
  
"What about Nikky?"  
  
"Nikky treats me like a baby." Agatha crossed her arms. "I hate her."  
  
"I'm your friend sweetie..." Lara tried. Agatha shook her head.  
  
"You can't be my friend. You're my mom."  
  
Catcher groaned. And shifted on the couch. The dream had him.  
  
"Please mommy," Agatha wiped at her tear. "Please let him stay. He's really nice and he won't do anything bad. Please?"  
  
It seemed silly. Treating him as if he were a pet. But her daughter's words. Made sense. "I have to talk to your dad."  
  
"But dad hates him. He'll say no."  
  
"Agatha, daddy doesn't hate him."  
  
"He does so! Why'd he hurt him then?" she worriedly turned back to Catcher. And quieted down. So as not to wake him. "And why does he stay away all the time?"  
  
Lara couldn't answer that. At least not with anything Agatha would believe.  
  
"Mom? Would you let him stay if it was your pick? All by yourself without daddy?"  
  
"We owe you a trip to the park, don't we?" Lara avenued.  
  
"Don't change the subject. Would you? Would you let him stay?" Damn Agatha's beautiful eyes. So real. Her father's weren't real. Not his. At least. Not anymore.  
  
Lara pulled her closer. And kissed her forehead. "Yes Agatha, I'd let him stay."  
  
Agatha smiled. And watched him. Sleeping fitfully. Blankets clutched about him. Her mother watched him too.  
  
"He makes my heart happy." She said quietly. "I think I love him..."  
  
A silly. Cute. Six year old heart. Kind of love.  
  
As if to answer. Catcher sighed contentedly. His arm coming out. From beneath the blanket. His hand touching the floor.  
  
"Do you love him too mommy?" she asked quietly. Craning her neck.  
  
She wasn't asking about the same kind of love.  
  
Lara thought about it. But never answered. 


	12. the park

CHAPTER TWELVE - THE PARK  
  
Lara dog-eared the page in her book. And looked up. Seeing Catcher on his belly. Facing Agatha. Who was on her belly too.  
  
They were staring at a dandelion. Which had died. And was now sitting with a full head of seeds. Like a feathery snowball. On a stalk.  
  
"One..." Agatha began counting.  
  
Catcher licked his lips.  
  
"Two..." she drew it out. Seeing the impatience in his eyes.  
  
"Remember," she tricked with a smile. "It's on three..."  
  
She waited.  
  
He watched.  
  
"Three!" They each blew their hardest. The little dandelion shuddering. Spilling its seeds.  
  
Agatha had to shut her eyes. To keep the hundreds from going into them.  
  
"Okay! Okay!" she relented. "You won!"   
  
He stopped blowing. Her laughter subsiding.  
  
Then she fingered the stalk. Snapping off the head. Watching the milky stuff come out.  
  
"But you only did though because you have bigger lungs than I do." She said. Making sure she still had her dignity.  
  
"You just have a smaller mouth." He reasoned.  
  
"No," Agatha picked the empty stalk. From the grass. Looked at it. Then cast it to the side. "Mom says I have a big mouth. 'One too big for my own good'." She had to squint one eye. And look up into her head. To remember the words exactly.  
  
Catcher leaned forward. And put his thumb and first finger. On the corners of her mouth. Then pulled back. And measured his own. With his other hand.  
  
Comparing them.  
  
"Mine's still bigger." He said.  
  
"You sure don't talk very much for having a big mouth then." She pondered. Reaching out. Touching his mouth. Gauging. Like he did. Spreading his lips. To see teeth.   
  
Giggling. She wiped the wetness onto her shirt.  
  
"Should I talk more?"  
  
"If you want." She rolled over onto her back. Looking up at the clouds. "Mom says I talk a lot. I bet I have to talk a lot to keep my lips from melting together. It's like if you make a silly face, they say it stays that way."  
  
"Does it?"  
  
"Probably," she offered. Her voice almost like a librarian. Who knew everything. At the age of six. "Nikky said she saw a girl pull her lips out from the sides and they stayed that way forever."  
  
"How does she know that it's forever?"  
  
Agatha rolled back over. Coming to face him again. Catcher was picking at the grass. He looked up.  
  
"I don't know." She looked at him. Even though it wasn't answerable. She liked that question.   
  
Her little head cocked. "Do you like it here?" She set it down on her crossed arms.  
  
"In the park?"  
  
"No, with me." her shoulders shrugged up a bit. As she too picked at the grass.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good." She smiled. "I like you here too." Rolling fully. She got up. And wiped the grass from her clothes.  
  
Catcher did the same.  
  
"Do you know how to play 'Captain Shadow'?" Looking towards the ground.  
  
He shook his head. Looking down. Standing in front of her.  
  
"I can teach you. You wanna play?"  
  
He shrugged. And nodded. At the same time.  
  
"Kay. The game is, you try and step on each other's shadows. And the last person that gets stepped on. Is 'it'."  
  
"What's 'it'?"  
  
"It's the last person that gets their shadow stepped on. Understand?"  
  
Catcher shook his head again.  
  
Agatha sighed. "Come here," she took his hand. And pulled him around to her other side. "See my shadow?" She pointed down. And he nodded. "You're standing on it now. So, you're 'it'."  
  
"Because I'm standing on your shadow?"  
  
"Yeah!" Agatha answered. "Now, the tree's base."  
  
"What's 'base'?"  
  
"The tree is." Agatha would never grow tired of teaching him. Even when he still didn't get it. She explained. "Base is where you can't step on someone's shadow."  
  
"Even if you're 'it'?"  
  
"Even if you're 'it'." She confirmed. "Alright." She stepped back. So he wasn't on her shadow anymore. "You're 'it'."  
  
"Why am I 'it'?"  
  
"Because I say so."  
  
"Why do you get to say so?"  
  
"You're making this a lot harder than it needs to be." She sighed with a smile. "We definitely need to work on you some more. Here, do you want me to be 'it' first then?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay, I'm 'it', you go run."  
  
Catcher took off.  
  
"But you can't run too fast!" She called after him.  
  
"Why not?" He called back.  
  
"Because I can't run as fast as you!"  
  
"Isn't that the point?"  
  
"No! That makes it unfair!"  
  
"Okay." Catcher slowed down. Puffing. Already.  
  
Agatha came up easily beside him. "But you have to run so it's hard."  
  
"Oh." Catcher sped up. His hand on his chest. And Agatha followed suit.  
  
They weaved in and out. Sprinting through the grass. Both laughing. Until Catcher went under the tree.   
  
"Base!" He called. And Agatha stopped at the edge of the shadow. Smiling.  
  
"Yeah, but you can't get out now." She smiled cockily. Her arms held wide. Shifting back and forth on her feet. Ready for his any move.  
  
"Yes I can." He ran straight for her. Something she didn't expect. And vaulted right over her head. Barely touching her shoulders. He took off running. When he landed.  
  
"Hey!" Agatha called as he ran off. "You can't do that!"  
  
"Why not?" He called back. Stopping. Huffing. Something hurt. His hand went to his chest again.  
  
"Because you're 'it' now." She stuck out her tongue.  
  
"But you didn't step on my shadow..."  
  
"But you can't touch. And touching's the same as stepping on a shadow.   
  
"I touched you though, you didn't touch me. That doesn't make sense."  
  
"It doesn't have to make sense. Touching's touching. And it doesn't matter who did it to who. You touched me - who was 'it' - and now you're 'it' for touching me."  
  
"That's not true."  
  
"Yes it is!" She came back. Then turned to her mom. Who was sitting on the bench. Watching them. "Mom? It doesn't matter who touches who right?!" She called.  
  
"She's right Catcher, you're 'it'." Lara claimed. Turning a page in her book. Smiling. Cocking an eye to him. Not noticing his hand. Massaging his chest.  
  
"See!?" Agatha stuck her tongue out again.   
  
"Fine." Catcher breathed. Smiling devilishly. As he swooped down upon Agatha. Lightning fast.  
  
She yelped in surprise. And delight. And ran.  
  
She barely escaped him. Her little legs pumping. While his swallowed the ground. Like a giant.  
  
She hurried up a rise. Her little heart pumping. As she made it to the top. Triumphant. She turned back.  
  
Only to see him stooped over. Clutching at his chest.  
  
His knees buckled. And he fell. Wheezing. Clenching at his borrowed shirt. Dark. And blue. Trying to reach his heart. Which was hurting.  
  
And fell over onto his side. Breathing hard.  
  
"Catcher! What's wrong?" Agatha came streaking down the hill. Stumbling once. Before she was over him. Her hands on his arms. He couldn't speak. Only pant. "Is something hurting you?"  
  
He looked up at her.  
  
There was pain in his eyes. And fear.   
  
"MOMMY!" 


	13. the heart

CHAPTER - THE HEART  
  
"Catcher?" Lara bent down. Next to him. Putting a hand on his shoulder. "Catcher, what's wrong?"  
  
He couldn't stop wheezing. And he stuck up his hand. Putting it against her collarbone. Trying to push her away. He felt like she was invading him. Invading his air.  
  
"It's alright," she spoke softly. Leaning in closer. Despite the hand. "I'm going to help you." As if it were the key. His hand dropped away.  
  
"...ow..." the only word he could get out. Weak and mewed. He tried to roll over. Onto his face.  
  
"Where does it hurt?" Her hands went to where his were. Peeling them back. "Does it hurt here? Your chest?"  
  
He nodded. Eyes clenching shut. As she rolled him. Onto his back. Placing her palm on his chest. Trying to see if it was on the outside. "Is it your wound Catcher? Is that what's hurting you?"  
  
He shook his head. "My heart..."  
  
Agatha was crying behind her. Her little hands. Gripping her shirt. At Lara's shoulder.  
  
"Agatha honey, it's alright, he's going to be okay." She tried to comfort her daughter. While Catcher clung to her wrists. She turned back.  
  
Suddenly. He sprung up. His arms going about her. Hugging her close. His breath was in her ear. Fast and hard. His chest bumping against hers.  
  
"Lara...Lara..." he was saying. Whimpering words. Between gasps. Like he'd done in the doctor's office. Like a little child.  
  
Her arms closed around him. Hesitantly. Feeling odd. "It's okay," so strange. "I'm here."  
  
"...Lara...Lara..." it was his whispered mantra.  
  
"Catcher, I need you to calm down. Take slow deep breaths, okay? Can you do that?" He nodded. His chin bumping her shoulder.  
  
As he tried. His wheezing got less. And less. Until his eyes closed. And his breathing became slow. Like she'd said.  
  
"That's it." She replaced her head. Against him. Turned loose with one arm. And reached back. Pulling her daughter in.  
  
She held them both. So close. Feeling them move. Until suddenly. They moved as one. For one brief moment. Their bodies moved as one.  
  
"Keep breathing like that, you're doing good." The words came from her mouth. Like liquid. Soft. And warm. And comfortable.   
  
She rubbed Agatha's back. Trying to calm her down. And did the same to Catcher. Rocking gently. "Does it still hurt?"  
  
"No...it stopped..."  
  
His hold on her. Became tighter. His lips. Brushing her ear.  
  
"Watch my heart." He whispered. "I still want to play..." 


	14. the war

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - THE WAR  
  
After going through this part a couple hundred times. I've realized that it is SO much more fun to read the talking parts out loud. You feel silly, but it makes the chapter much more enjoyable. Cheers! ~  
  
They ambled into the house. Awkward. Hanging off one another.  
  
"Quite a scare at the park today I see."  
  
Lara came in. Her arms were around Catcher's shoulders. Like the blanket. And Agatha held his hand. On the other side.  
  
Squinting through the darkness. She looked for the person. "Who are you?"  
  
How'd he know they were at the park?  
  
  
  
"You don't even know your own husband anymore..."  
  
"John?" She squinted hard. Trying to make out his form. It was the first time he'd been back home. The entire week.  
  
"We're lucky he didn't die today."  
  
"It was just a little scare, nothing at all..." She tried to smile. But the darkness took it from her face. The hair on the back of her neck. Stood up on end. There was something wrong.  
  
Lara turned loose and leaned down. Talking to Agatha. "Why don't you take him up to bed. I'll be there in a minute to check on you."  
  
Agatha looked at the dark room. Feeling her hair rise too. Hesitating.  
  
"Go on sweetie. Daddy and I need to talk." She tapped her on the nose. And Agatha nodded. Pulling Catcher up the stairs.   
  
She heard the groan of leather. And turned back to the darkness.  
  
"What are you doing?" Lara asked warily. Coming forward. Her hand going to the light switch. Flipping it on. But no lights came on.  
  
"No. What are you doing?"  
  
"What did you do to the lights?"  
  
"I disconnected them." He said matter of factly. "What have you been doing with him?"  
  
"What are you talking about? John? What's wrong with you?"  
  
"He's dead Lara. Witwer is dead."  
  
"I know that." She contested. "That's not Witwer."  
  
"Who is then? A figment of my fucking imagination?" Anderton seethed. Mockingly amused as he said it.  
  
"His name's Catcher. He's..."  
  
"What?" he cut her off. "You named the fucker?" He threw something in the dark. And it shattered. Making her jump. "You know you can't name things. You get attached to shit when you name it. You know that."  
  
"Don't swear John, Agatha can hear us."  
  
"How would you know that?" She didn't know where he was now. His voice sounded like it was in a million different places. All at once.  
  
"They can hear through the vents."  
  
"The vents huh?" She heard him move. And jumped in surprise when there was pounding. His fist clanging loudly. Against the vent.  
  
"Can they hear that?! Can you fucking hear that?!!" He screamed at the top of his lungs   
  
"Stop it John! You're scaring me." She commanded. And the clanging stopped.  
  
"I'm scaring you?" He came close. But she couldn't see him. Only feel his breath on her neck. "My fucking family's being ripped away from me and you're scared?" He laughed amusedly. "You have no idea what scared is."  
  
"Nobody's taking your family away from you." Her voice hitched in her throat. Her arms clutched about herself. "You're pushing us away."  
  
"Oh yeah Lara?" he breathed vehemently, "I'm pushing you away? What about the night he came? You let him sleep in our house. The joy ride to the city? What was that about? The lunch? The park? It seems to me I'm not doing any pushing, you daffy bitch."   
  
She only knew one time. When John had ever spoken to her like that.  
  
  
  
"You've been using again, haven't you?" She didn't have to see. To know. Her voice shuddered. As she tried to hold her ground.  
  
"This isn't about me. It's about the man who's trying to steal away my family. The dead fucker you're replacing me with."  
  
"Replacing you? How can he be replacing you when you're not even there to be replaced?!" She'd said too much.  
  
And clamped her hand over her mouth.  
  
"So that's how it is, huh?" He moved through the darkness like a snake. "I'm a bad husband, a bad father. Is that it?"  
  
He was to her left. No. To her right. No. Was he behind her?  
  
"No! You've changed John. Ever since Lamar -"  
  
"Shut up about Lamar!" A backhand came from the darkness. And struck her across the face. Nearly knocking her over.  
  
Tears welled in her eyes. But she did not step back.  
  
"You ever talk about Lamar again and I'll kill you! Understand?"  
  
Her hand went up to her face. Shaking. As he padded around her.   
  
"He was a great man..." Anderton breathed.  
  
"He killed two people in cold blood. That makes him a horrible person." She found the transparent faults. But stuttered none the less. "H- h - He screwed with America's sense of security, that's nothing we'll never be able to win back."  
  
"Fuck America's security!" John yelled. "Most of those people out there don't even deserve to live. They're only ever gonna be half of what Lamar or I am."  
  
"Catcher's twice of what you'll ever be!" Again. Too much. Words in haste. With horrible consequences.  
  
"What?"  
  
Oh shit. She tried to crowbar her foot. Back out of her mouth.  
  
"He makes Agatha smile John. For the first time since she was a baby, she smiles." Lara broke down. Trying to explain. Sympathetically. "He makes her..."  
  
He could feel him circling her. But always stayed far enough away. So that she couldn't see him.  
  
She didn't want to say the word.  
  
"Happy?" he asked. And sadly. She nodded.  
  
"So that's it..." his voice had faded. Now instead of anger. There was clearness. Understanding. Hatefully so. "I don't make her happy..."  
  
"No John," she tried to counter. Putting out her hands. Trying to feel for him. "That's not what I said...."  
  
"You don't have to say it Lara," he was angry again. "It's clear enough now. I don't make you happy..."  
  
"John..." she tried to reason.  
  
"No." He cut off. "That's it. This is the end."  
  
"What 'end' John? You're confused, let's sleep on it...we can talk about it in the morning."  
  
"No, there's not going to be a morning." He fated. "You have to make a decision Lara. Right now."  
  
"A decision?..."  
  
"It's him or me! Who's it going to be?!" He talked like a game show host.   
  
One that was going to kill the contestant.   
  
"The stakes are in! All bets are off! Take a stand sweetheart!" His voice was like venom. Acid in his throat. As he spat it in her ear.  
  
She stood with her mouth open.  
  
"Your husband, whom you're legally contracted to, till you die, or some fucking corpse who's come back from his own death?!"  
  
"You can't -" She thrust her finger out. And he grabbed it. Twisting her wrist around. Breaking it. Hearing the bone snap.  
  
She cried out. As he thrust his face at hers. Coming into the light. There were deep bags under his eyes. Dark. And blue.  
  
"John..." she whispered hoarsely. "You're hurting me...please stop..." tears were finally in her eyes.  
  
"...John...stop...." As she looked into her husband's.  
  
No. Not his eyes. Someone else's.  
  
"HIM OR ME!??!" 


	15. the sex

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - THE SEX  
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
"Lara?" A voice came through the wood. Soft. And caring.  
  
"Leave me alone Catcher." She sobbed.  
  
"I could hear you crying." He spoke through the door. "Are you alright?"  
  
"I'm fine Catcher," she put her face into her hands. "Just go back to sleep...you shouldn't be up..." she sniffed.  
  
"And you shouldn't cry alone, no one will be there to catch your tears..."  
  
Laura turned. And looked at the door. Before coming forward. And opening it  
  
"Agatha played it for me." He breathed. When he saw her face. "She said it was your favorite song."  
  
"It is." she smiled through the tears.  
  
"Can I come in?" He asked. And she took a shaky breath. Before nodding her head. Wiping at her tears. With her thumb.  
  
He noticed her finger. Swollen. Dark. And blue. Made a move towards it. But she pulled away.  
  
"It's nothing. Where is she?"  
  
"She's asleep. In my room." Catcher closed the door behind him. Keeping it quiet.  
  
"I have a headache. Will you get me a bottle of whiskey please?" She cried into her hands. Couldn't hold it back. Tried to stop it. But cried some more.  
  
"Where is one?"  
  
"In that table beside you." She said through heavy breaths.  
  
Pulling out the drawer. He rummaged about. And found it. Giving it to her.  
  
With shaking hands. She unscrewed the cap. And took a long. Hard gulp. Clenching her face as it went down. The liquid dried her tears.  
  
"John left me..." she finally said. Sniffing.  
  
"Will he be back?"  
  
"I don't know." Her voice stretched thin. As she took another drink. Her mouth curling. As tears came forward again.  
  
He put his hands on her shoulders. But she ducked away from them. Going towards the window. "It's my fault..." she breathed. "It's all my fault..."  
  
Catcher watched her back. Hearing her harshly berate herself. Without stopping her. Watching her drink herself silly. Without stopping her.  
  
"I don't know what to do..." she blubbered. "The situation...I don't know what to do." She was crying again. Her words coming out with her tears. Listless. And breathy.  
  
By the end of the bottle. Her forehead was against the glass. Her nose smushed. The rain outside reflecting her tears. Which had all. But dissipated.  
  
It always seemed to rain here. Especially on the sad days.  
  
"Catcher?" She stood back from the window. Her voice was now solid. Watching the empty spot in the driveway. Where John's car use to sit.  
  
And probably would never sit again.  
  
"Yes Lara?" He asked. Now sitting on the bed. Looking at her back. The way the soft light. Rolled over her shoulders. Making them glow.  
  
She turned. Staring at him. Watching the way the soft light. Rolled over his shoulders. Making them glow.  
  
"Do you think I'm pretty?" Her self worth had gone down. Thanks to the second abandoning. Thanks to John's words. Thanks to the alcohol.  
  
The wide collar of her nightshirt hung from her shoulder. Her long sleeves ruffled at the bottom. From where she'd wiped her nose.  
  
He looked at her. "I think you're beautiful."  
  
"Would you have sex with me?" The tears said it. The liquor said it. The situation said it. She said it.  
  
"What's 'sex'?" He asked.  
  
"It's when a man and a woman love each other." She felt nothing. Explaining it to him. She thought she should feel something. But she didn't.  
  
"Do we love each other?" He asked. As she approached the bed. Tears welling in her eyes. She took anther drink. The last in the bottle.  
  
She shook her head. Then second-guessed. "We could." Her voice was a whisper now. And he could smell the alcohol. Even from across the room.  
  
Reaching up. She began to pull at her clothes. Taking them off.  
  
His face did not move as he watched.  
  
She stripped from her nightshirt. And pushed her nightpants down her legs. Standing there now in her panties. No bra.  
  
And still his face did not move. From her face.  
  
"Do you love me Catcher?" She climbed up onto the bed. Kneeling over his outstretched legs. Straddling them.  
  
She reached out. And pulled at his tee shirt. He raised his arms. And let it slide off. With ease. Revealing his chest. Pretty. But bruised.  
  
"I could." He breathed as her hands went to his pants. Touching his zipper.   
  
Her lips were at his chest. Her teeth biting his skin. The ghost of alcohol. Warming her breaths.   
  
"I feel funny." He said. His eyes closing. "Is that love?"  
  
With a mouthful of him. She began to cry. Anew. At his innocence.  
  
He looked down. And put his arms around her. The crown of her head. Pressing in his breastbone.  
  
"It could be..." she murmured wetly. Her lips touching his skin. Smooth. Warm. And dry.  
  
"Do you feel the same way?" he asked quietly. "About me?"  
  
"You mean, do I love you?" she whispered.  
  
He nodded. Her tears tapped his chest. And ran down to his belly.  
  
She looked at him. Hard.  
  
"You have two different colored eyes." She whispered.  
  
"Agatha says it's from inbreeding."  
  
This broke a smile onto Lara's face. Catcher smiled in return.  
  
"I don't think inbreeding, could ever make anything as beautiful as you..." she cried warm tears. The dripped down her cheeks.  
  
Until she collapsed fully against him. Letting him cradle her. As she folded into his lap. His arms coming around her. Holding her close.  
  
"Is sex what you still want?" He asked. Breathing into her hair. Kissing the top of her head.  
  
"I don't know." She closed her eyes. "I think so." 


	16. the night

all i have are apologies and barely enough gumption to say "i'm an ass." cause i was never worthy of such fabulous folk as yourselves...   
  
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - THE NIGHT   
  
He woke up naked. His arms around her waist naked. Cradled in her lap naked. Face nested in her hair. Tickling his nose. He had to sneeze. What an odd sensation. For a man that's never sneezed.  
  
It's like a blind man. Seeing the color blue. For the first time. Dark. And blue.   
  
He sneezed. Hard. One that tore his ribcage in half. And sent his heart flying against his chest. Crashing. Bleeding. Falling with a thump. Against his big intestine.   
  
Bounce.  
  
Small intestine.   
  
Bounce.  
  
Liver.   
  
Bounce.  
  
Kidney.   
  
Bounce.  
  
Belly.   
  
Stopping.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  
"Catcher?" The sneeze awoke the sleeper. Not the kiss.  
  
His hands went to his fallen heart. Clutching at his empty chest.  
  
"My heart," he said. Through wide. Scared. Eyes. Eyes that bled tears. And wrought pain. "My heart's gone."  
  
Lara didn't understand. "What are you talking about?" She reached up. To touch his hand. His heart. To show him that it was still there. But he pulled away.  
  
Doubling over. Sucking in. Feeding fire. He collapsed sideways. Smashing his face. In the soft. Cool. Blankets.  
  
"What's wrong?" She tried to lift him up. But his body had become heavy. His bare skin cold. His muscles lead. His veins refrigerator coils.  
  
"My heart's gone," he repeated. "It fell. It hurts Lara. It hurts so much."  
  
He was scared. And hurting.  
  
She was confused. And helpless.  
  
"What do you want me to do?"  
  
He sat up. Fast. So fast. He knocked her across the side of the head. Her hair splashing. Blood splattering.  
  
As she tumbled.  
  
Crash.   
  
Shlunk.  
  
Poohm.  
  
She was dead.  
  
Naked on the floor.  
  
"I told you to watch my heart." He cried. "I told you..."  
  
They were naked. 


	17. the mosey

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - THE MOSEY  
  
It was still raining outside. Harder now.  
  
She sat up. From the floor. One arm on the side of the bed. The other holding the side of her jaw. Where he'd hit her.  
  
There was no blood. Just a red spot. That would most likely become a bruise.  
  
He was breathing hard. Surprise in his eyes. Pain in his forehead. From where he'd hit her. Not in his chest. Like he'd dreamt.  
  
"Are you okay?" She slowly stood up. Using the bed for balance. Still top naked. Looking down. She wrapped her arm around herself. Suddenly embarrassed.   
  
The alcohol costume had worn off.  
  
She rummaged to find her top. And put it back on. Followed by her sleep pants. Before coming back over to him.  
  
Catcher still upright on the bed. Shirtless. Still surprised. Working things out in his head. He'd never had a violent dream before. Like that. Not the he remembered.  
  
"What happened?" He was looking at her now. Worry in his eyes. That he'd hurt her. "I don't understand..."  
  
"You're alright." She was comforting. Despite the pain in her jaw. Climbing back up onto the bed. But not close to him. "You had a dream." Her head was really woozy. He'd struck her hard.  
  
He whimpered. Covering his head with his arms. His eyes cinching. "I'm sorry. I don't like dreams..." He hunkered down. Ashamed at hurting her.  
  
"Do you remember what the dream was about?" She was worried. More about him. And his reaction. Than her silly. Aching. Jaw.  
  
"My heart fell out..." His hand went to his heart. While the other stayed across the top of his head. He finally looked up at her. "I'm sorry." He said again looking at the welt. Covered by her hand.  
  
"It's oka....ah..." Something panged her. Most likely her tongue. Where she'd bit it. When he'd hit her. Accidentally.  
  
He was ashamed. And he got off the bed. Hurriedly. Going to the door. "I'm sorry Lara, I'm sorry I hit you..."  
  
"Catcher? Where are you going? Come back you didn't mean to!" But he was out the door. Running down the hall.  
  
She tried to get up. To follow. But a rush of blood spattered across her eyes. Dimming the dim lights. Making her head heavy. She stumbled. Before she fell. Blacking out.   
  
On the floor. Dark. And blue.  
  
"Mommy?" Agatha came to the door. Holding Mosey. Her plush cat. Stretched. And old.  
  
She'd heard the thumps. And commotion. Now she found her mom on the floor. Breathing lightly.  
  
"Mommy!" She ran towards her. Kneeling down. Tapping her shoulder. "Mommy wake up..."  
  
Lara jerked. But didn't open her eyes.  
  
"Mommy? Where's Catcher?" She shook Lara. But Lara just slept.  
  
Below. She heard the door slam.  
  
She ran to the window. Mosey still clutched tight. She watched a figure in the slashing gray rain. Running madly. Stumbling. Falling. Picking itself up again and running again.  
  
"Catcher!" She called through the window. But he didn't turn around. Didn't stop. Just kept running. He couldn't have heard her anyway.  
  
She bolted. Back towards the door. Down the hall. Down the stairs. Through the entryway. Past the pictures. Opening the door. Through the porch. And out into the pouring rain.   
  
With nothing but Mosey.  
  
In nothing but her jammies.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
She found him sitting at the edge of the lake. On Agatha's old swing set. Swinging lightly.  
  
As she came closer. She saw his shoulders jumping. His head in his hands. His coat around him.   
  
He'd grabbed it when he ran out.  
  
She came up. Silently. And got up on the swing next to him. Watching him cry.  
  
She hugged Mosey tight with one arm. Fending off the cold rain.  
  
"Catcher?" She whispered. Leaning over towards him. The swing chains groaning crooked.   
  
"Leave me alone." He turned away. His face still covered. His shoulders still bouncing. He was covered in mud. From when he'd fallen. She could see it from where the coat didn't cover. Where his hands didn't cover.  
  
"What happened?" She asked. Ignoring his curtness.  
  
"I hit her..." He cowered.  
  
The lake beyond was grumbling with raindrops. Screaming because they were stabbing its skin.  
  
"Why?" She asked.  
  
"I was dreaming..."  
  
"What were you dreaming?"  
  
"That my heart fell out of its place."  
  
She got down off the swing. And came towards him.  
  
He saw her coming and cringed away. She pulled back. Confused.  
  
"I don't want to hit you too." He said.  
  
She twisted her eyebrows. "Would you hit me? On purpose?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Did you hit mommy on purpose?"  
  
"No."  
  
She came closer. Despite his silent protest. And came up between his knees. Leaning the side of her head against his chest. Listening.  
  
He shuddered with his breath. She looked down. At Mosey. Then took his hand. And made him hold him. As she leaned in close again. Listening again.  
  
She cupped her free hand against her other ear. Blocking out the rain. Closing her eyes.  
  
"Your heart's where it's suppose to be..."   
  
He could feel her shiver.  
  
The way she'd done. When they'd walked to her house. In the rain.  
  
She leaned back. Smiling. With chattering teeth. Pulling her arms around her. Her jammies soaked through. "It was just a dream."  
  
"I don't like dreams." He said. As she began to climb. Climbing his knees like a rock wall. Up into his lap like the final plateau. Still shaking.  
  
"Not all dreams are bad." She commented. Leaning in close. Feeding off his warmth. The back of her head at his bare belly. Her hair tickling his skin. "You just had a bad one is all..."  
  
He shrugged off his coat. And pulled it around on top of her. Curled on his lap. The rain now piercing his back. Stinging his shoulders. Stabbing his flanks.  
  
"I forgive you." She whispered. "You didn't mean to." Huddling. Still shivering.  
  
"You should go inside."  
  
She looked up. Noticing he was top naked. "What about you? You'll freeze out here."  
  
"I'm fine." He lied. Already cold. "Go inside."  
  
She went to protest. But he cut her off. Turning stern.  
  
"Go inside Agatha. Go check on your mom. She needs you."  
  
"Catcher..." He straightned his legs. Making her slide off. Forcing her onto the ground. Still holding the coat about her. Loosely. The bottom drug in the mud.  
  
"I need to be alone."  
  
She began to unshoulder the coat.  
  
"No," he held out a hand. Keeping it on her. "You keep it."  
  
She bit her bottom lip. Scowling worriedly.   
  
He looked down. Tears still in his eyes. Noticing Mosey.  
  
He stretched out his arm. Offering her the cat.  
  
"No," she shook her head. Keeping it with him. "You keep it."  
  
And she turned. With a lingering sigh.  
  
Then she left. Letting him think.  
  
With Mosey. 


	18. the milkshake

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - THE MILKSHAKE  
  
He woke up sideways. Bone dry. Swathed in blankets. Back on the couch. Inside. Clutching Mosey close to his chest.  
  
Despite the blankets. And his dryness. He was still cold.  
  
He dropped little Mosey. With a *pflumpf* to the floor. The cat sat upright for a moment. Before crashing over onto its side. As Catcher bundled the blankets tighter around him.  
  
He heard a noise in the kitchen. That broke him out of his dazing. He coughed. Twice. And sniffed. Only to not be able to.  
  
He sat up. Rubbing at his nose.  
  
A headache showed itself. One that wrapped around the front of his head. And hung there like a giant band-aid. On the inside of his skull.  
  
He stood on shaky legs. Testy. Before he stumbled off toward the other room.  
  
"Hi sleepyhead." Agatha said. As he shuffled into the kitchen. Blanket clutched about him. His head dizzy. Throwing the room about.  
  
His feet slid sideways. And he stumbled. Lara came out from behind the fridge. Catching him. Interesting. Catching a catcher...  
  
"Whoa, you okay?" she asked. Helping him to the counter. She was in her sleep pants. Dark. And blue. With bunnies on them. A black camisole. Different clothes than last time.   
  
Agatha wore an outfit. To match her mom's pants.  
  
Lara had hair pulled back now. Revealing the bruise. That ran the length of her jaw.  
  
Catcher reached up. And palmed the side of his head. The room still spinning. As he tried to steady it.  
  
"Here," Lara set down a glass of water. In front of him. "Drink a little bit of this." He picked it up. And sipped lightly. Before setting it back down.  
  
"You slept forever!" Agatha had crawled up onto the counter. Her bottom on the top. Her feet dangling off. Her toes warm in fuzzy bunny slippers.  
  
"I did?" His throat was cottony. His lungs stuffed with cobwebs.  
  
"You slept the whole day and night and half the day again!" She exclaimed. "I thought you were dead."  
  
"You did sleep a long time, do you feel alright?" Lara asked. Noticing the way his skin looked. Pale. And yellowish. Almost like old cheese.  
  
He cowered away from her eyes. Upon sight of the bruise again. Remembering what he'd done.  
  
"You sleep like a rock." Agatha curled into his vision. Leaning crooked. To make sure she had his attention. "I had the music turned all the way up."  
  
"Much to my disapproval, I might add." Lara went back to the fridge. Licking at something on her finger. The one not splinted. Agatha smiled widely.  
  
He licked his teeth. Trying to get rid of the cottony feel. "You probably have horrible breath," Agatha explained. "You slept all day and night and day with your mouth open. I once saw a fly go in there."  
  
"No fly went into his mouth..."   
  
"Did too! I saw it!" She claimed. "It probably was crawling around and laid eggs and now he's going to spit out babies one day soon!" she was enthralled.  
  
"Agatha, that's disgusting..." her mom came back out of the fridge. Holding a carton of milk. It kept mooing. Till she shook it.  
  
"They're going to come out like little white worms and they're gonna crawl around in your teeth and when you floss you'll scratch their little eyeballs..."  
  
"Agatha stop it, you're making him sick. You're making me sick. Where do you get stories like this?"  
  
"Around." Agatha said coyly. As Lara lowered an eyebrow to her. Smiling. And shaking her head.  
  
"Are you feeling okay?" Lara came to the counter. Asking again. And set the milk down. Reaching out. To touch Catcher's forehead.   
  
He ducked away. And she pulled back. Looking at him. He looked at the counter. Running his fingers through the cracks in the tile. Feeling the grout.  
  
Clearing her throat. Lara came over and kissed the top of Agatha's head. Whispering to her. "Test his forehead for me, sweetie."  
  
Agatha reached out. Her tongue coming out to help her reach. And took his forehead in her palm. Part of her little belly showing.   
  
Catcher looked up at her. But not at Lara.  
  
"He's warm." Agatha diagnosed. "He's probably sick."  
  
"That rain probably didn't do him any good." Lara commented. Going to the cupboards.   
  
"Can we watch cartoons?" Agatha asked. Peeking out. Lara scrunched her face. Thinking. Not very hard.  
  
"Pleeeeeaaaazzzzzz? I really like cartoons! They'll make Catcher feel better!" She begged.  
  
Her stretched face made Lara smile.  
  
"Is that so huh?"  
  
"Yes, it's true." She said. Almost stoically.  
  
"Well then, I suppose yes."  
  
"Yay!" Agatha jumped down. Ran around. Climbed up onto the counter once more. Pressed a button. And a hologram platform slid out from the wall.  
  
Pressing another few buttons. A picture came up. Of a cartoon. Wile E. Coyote. Chasing the Roadrunner. A new version. One where he actually catches. The damn bird.  
  
Agatha went back to her spot. Sitting next to Catcher.  
  
She poked him. "Guess what?"  
  
He didn't look up. Only tilted his head towards her. Slightly. "What?" His voice was low. And sullen.  
  
"Mom's making MILKSHAKES!" She screamed it. Making Lara jump as she poured a packet of something into a mug. Making Catcher cringe. And reach up to take hold of his aching head.  
  
"Agatha, honey, don't scream." Lara put the mug in the microwave. And turned it on. It tested the beverage. And set the exact time.  
  
Agatha cringed. Before smiling widely. A hand going over her mouth. And she whispered. "Do you want a milkshake?"  
  
"No." His throat raw. Causing him pain. His twisting face. Made Lara's face twist. But he didn't look at her.  
  
He folded his arms up onto the table. Setting his head down on top of it. Closing his eyes.  
  
Agatha turned away from her cartoons. Where she'd escaped to. And frowned at his ho hum demeanor. "Catcher?" His eyes tightened. As if it hurt to hear her. "Are you okay?"  
  
Three times he'd been asked that. The answer was always the same. He'd just never said it. Silly women.  
  
"I feel sick."  
  
Lara went to the sink. Motion detected. Wet a rag. And came back. Putting it against his head.  
  
His eyes had been closed. So he hadn't seen her coming.  
  
"We thought a milkshake would make you feel better." Agatha smiled at him. But he didn't smile back.  
  
"I don't like this feeling." He mumbled. Feeling the droplets of cold water. Press against the side of his head. Puddling there. His hand went down to his belly. Feeling it grumble. And kick his appendix. Hard.  
  
The microwave played a song. A snippet of Bach. Preprogrammed. Signaling it was done. Lara went there. Popped it open. And took out a mug. Steaming.  
  
"Here Catcher, drink this." she pushed him up. The rag sliding off with a wet plop. His eyelids heavy. "You'll feel better."  
  
His lips were pale. Almost blue. While his skin took on a gray color. Under the lights. A chill coursed over him. Lara was worried.  
  
"Agatha, can you make your own milkshake?"  
  
Agatha didn't turn away from the holovision. "Yeah." Her head was cocked to the side. Watching the 24-hour cartoon channel. Uninterrupted.   
  
"I'm going to take Catcher upstairs."  
  
Now she turned around.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I'm going to take him up to his room. He doesn't feel good." Lara said. Smiling comfortingly. "I'll be back down in a little bit."  
  
She looked at Catcher. Pale. And sickly. Before nodding to her mom. "Okay." And turning back to the cartoon.  
  
"C'mon," Lara coaxed him up. He was too weak to pull away. And if he could have. He would have fallen. He'd become so feeble. In all of three minutes.  
  
She threw his arm up around her neck. To help them both. The blanket falling away. As she took his side. Her hands wrapped around his waist. Holding him up.  
  
He had no willpower of his own.  
  
His head bobbed back and forth on his neck. As they went up the stairs.  
  
The stairs were hard. But finally. They reached the top. And made their way down the hall.  
  
"uhnoh..."  
  
"What?" Lara tried to understand.  
  
"No..." Catcher twisted away from her. Falling to his knees. Bracing himself with his hands.  
  
She stood there. Looking at him. Keeled over in the middle of the hallway. He was panting. Shaking. Slick with a cold sweat. He shone under the lights.  
  
Licking her lips. She kneeled down in front of him. Tipping her head. So that she could see his face. Pushing a piece of loose hair behind her ear.  
  
"Catcher?"  
  
His eyes were closed. His mouth open. Panting breaths. She watched a tear squeeze out from his closed eyes. Roll down his nose. And fall with a plop to the floor.  
  
"Why are you crying?"  
  
He shook his head. Sucking in his breath. He reached up. And shoved away the tears. Before leaning back up. And fighting to stand.  
  
She watched him from where she kneeled. As he crawled to the wall. As he climbed to his feet. As he found a footing somewhat. Walked a couple steps. Then fell against the wall.   
  
She rose. Slowly. Licking her lips again. Her arms crossed. Following him.  
  
He tried to push himself off. To cross the hall. And nearly fell. Until she caught him.  
  
He tried to fight away from her. Again.  
  
"Catcher stop." She turned. Holding him up. With difficulty. All his weight. Dead in her arms. She stared at him.  
  
He looked away. But she demanded his eyes. "Look at me." She said it sternly. But sincere.   
  
He looked at her. Reluctantly. His eyes traced the bruise. Glossy. And discolored.  
  
"You didn't mean to. It's not your fault." She said it slowly. Sounding out each word. Emphasizing every syllable. "Alright?"  
  
There were still tears in his eyes.  
  
She pushed his arms up. Over her shoulders. And hugged him. Tight. As he fell against her. "I forgive you."  
  
His face hit her shoulder. Her face in his hair. She breathed him in. He cried. Silently.  
  
"I forgive you."  
  
Catcher stifled his breath. Before the onslaught came.  
  
Lara let him cry.  
  
Agatha smiled.  
  
And crept back down the stairs. Sucking on her milkshake. 


	19. the sleep

CHAPTER NINETEEN - THE SLEEP  
  
PAMPERAGE! I thought Catcher could use some lovin' cause he obviously isn't getting enough.... _ silly Catcher...  
  
~  
  
There was a quiet knock at the door.  
  
The rain had stopped.  
  
Lara opened her eyes. Just resting. Looked down at Catcher. Sleeping on her chest. And smiled lightly. Before turning. "Yeah?"  
  
"Can I come in mommy?"  
  
"Sure baby..."   
  
Agatha walked in. Holding two cups. Both filled with milkshake. Lara's first. Agatha's second.  
  
Catcher sniffed. And twitched. As Agatha climbed up onto the bed. Carefully.  
  
Lara took her hand off his back. Warm. Getting hold of one of Agatha's cups. Cold. Before she almost tipped it over. And set it on the bedside table.   
  
"I brought you your milkshake." Agatha said. Getting situated.   
  
Lara put her finger up to her mouth. Hushing her. And Agatha looked down at Catcher.  
  
Lara was lying bowed. With her head and shoulders supported upright by pillows. Catcher's head was on her chest. Breathing lightly. Her hand on the side of his head. Rubbing his hair. Her thumb moving in little circles. His arms were akimbo around her.  
  
She was laid out straight. While Catcher was mostly jackknifed off to her side. His bare torso laid on her. With his legs bent away. His weight pressed her into the mattress. Hot. And soft.  
  
"Is he still sick?"  
  
It'd been about an hour. Since the hallway. Enough to get Catcher asleep.  
  
"Yes, he is. But he's getting better." She felt his forehead. "He's gotten cooler. And his color's coming back."  
  
"I think he just needed love."  
  
"Maybe you're right." Lara smiled down at him. Reaching over. To take a drink from her milkshake. Kissing Agatha's head. In mid-reach. Liking the comment.  
  
"This is good." She smiled. Purposely tipping her glass almost too far. Making a crest on her upper lip.  
  
Established with her legs crossed. The milkshake between her thighs. Agatha laughed. "You have a mustache." She was quiet about it.  
  
Lara smiled. And wiggled her nose like a rabbit. "You make tasty milkshakes."  
  
"Milkshake kisses!" Agatha tipped up her glass. And made her own mustache. Leaning over. To kiss her mom on the lips. Meshing milkshake. As they both laughed quietly.  
  
"Mmm," Lara licked the mesh off. "What's yours?"  
  
"It's Oreo banana." Agatha was proud. Looking down into her glass. Splotched with black flecks and yellow chunks. "I couldn't decide on which one to get."  
  
"It's yummy." Lara took another sip of her own. - Strawberry - Before setting it back down.  
  
Catcher sighed. And snuggled. Both girls looked at him.  
  
"He looks happy." Agatha commented. Leaning over to brush at his hair. Just to touch him.  
  
"He does." Lara rubbed his hair too. Soft.  
  
Agatha put her milkshake next to her mom's. Before leaning in. Snaking her arm beneath Lara's. Linking them. As she leaned her head against her shoulder. Sighing.  
  
Agatha stared at Catcher's contented face. "I think he loves you."  
  
"Why do you think that?"  
  
"I dunno. I can just tell." She cocked her head. As if the answer would come. "Do you love him mom?"  
  
"I don't know..." Lara's sentence died away. Not sure what to say.  
  
"Are you going to marry him?"  
  
Lara lifter her arm. And wrapped it around her shoulder. "Puddin' bear, grown up love doesn't work like that."  
  
"Why not?" Agatha looked up. Her big eyes sincere.  
  
"It just doesn't. You've got to have time, for love to grow."  
  
"Like a puppy?" Excitement was in her voice. Slightly. Coyly.  
  
Lara was thrown a bit off guard. "Yeah, I guess like a puppy."  
  
"Can we get a puppy?" Agatha turned to her mom. Sneaking it in.  
  
Lara's mouth came open. "How sly we are." She tightened her arm around her daughter. Smiling at her stealth.   
  
Agatha grinned. But didn't press the matter. Looking towards Catcher.  
  
Who still slept soundly. Snuggling again. As if Lara's bosom was a pillow. She flinched. When he tried to dig into her breastbone. And smiled.  
  
"How much time does it take to fall in love?" Agatha asked.  
  
"Depends..."  
  
"On what?"  
  
"On stuff..." She was purposely leaving the answers open.  
  
"What kind of stuff?"  
  
"Stuff..."  
  
"Mom!" She'd had enough.  
  
Catcher's eyes came open. Agatha's hands slapping across her mouth. Her eyes wide.  
  
Catcher lifted his head. Eyes half closed. As he turned his head to the other side. And set it back down. Sighing deeply. Wrapping his arms tighter.  
  
His left fist touched Agatha's foot. And she reached down. And took it in her tiny fingers. Holding it.   
  
A smile came across his pale face. Slight. And sleepy.  
  
"What are we gonna do after he wakes up?"  
  
Lara opened her sleeping eyes again. Brought out of her light napping. "Hmm - what do you want to do?" She closed her eyes again. Unable to keep them open.  
  
Agatha's face twisted as she thought. Before shrugging. And snuggling her head into Lara's shoulder. Closing her eyes too. Feeling the pressure of sleep.  
  
"Let's sleep on it..."  
  
"Mkay..." Lara was already halfway in dreamland.  
  
There was only soft breathing for the moment. Before it was broken by a whisper.  
  
"Mommy?"  
  
"Yeah?" she was losing herself. Fast.  
  
"Can we go get a puppy?" 


	20. the stitches

CHAPTER TWENTY - THE STITCHES  
  
"No."  
  
"Please mommy? Pleeeeeaaazzz?!" She was following her around.   
  
"No. We don't need a puppy. You make a mess enough as it is."  
  
Agatha stopped. Her fists going to her side. A bitterness crossing her little face. She'd woken up grumpy.  
  
Lara stopped. Spun around. And mirrored it with a stuck out bottom lip. Showing her defiance.  
  
"I'll cry." She threatened.  
  
Lara waved the rag she was cleaning with. Before spinning back around. "Cry away."  
  
Unsatisfied. "I'll scratch you." She bared her fingernails. Imagining them as sharp as those extinct tiger's she'd seen in books. From school.  
  
"You scratch me and you don't come out of your room for the rest of the day." Lara countered.  
  
Agatha flopped back on the couch. Defeated. "But mooooooom!" She whined.   
  
But Lara didn't stop to bother. Just kept cleaning.  
  
Agatha crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll run away."  
  
"You have nowhere to go." Not missing a beat.  
  
Agatha was desperate now. "This is why daddy left you!"  
  
This stopped Lara. And made her turn. Pain in her eyes. Stiffness in her back. Anger in her heart. She'd tried to forget.  
  
Too soon.  
  
"What did you just say?"   
  
"Daddy left because of you! It's YOUR FAULT I'm a bastard child!" The onslaught of tears had begun. The dam lifted. With one little thread. At Agatha's disposal.  
  
Lara's jaw dropped. "Where did you learn that word?!" She came towards her. And Agatha backed up the bottom of the stairs.   
  
"Nikky..." The moth had come too close to the flame. Some dust had fallen from her wings.  
  
Lara's hand went out like an old-time traffic block. Her finger stiff to the top of the stairs. "Go to your room, right now! And think about what you just said!"  
  
Agatha's face fell. Broken. As she began to cry. Harder. "Mommy, I'm sorry!" Her old routine. Tears streaming. As she stretched out her arms. Ready to embrace her mom.   
  
Bawling. Wailing. Crying up a storm.  
  
"No. Agatha. Get your butt up to your room before I spank it!" That sent Agatha staggering away. Screaming and crying hysterically.  
  
She broke into a run. Sucking air. Treading tears. And she stomped hard up each step. Pounding down the hall.  
  
"You're in there until I say so!" Lara yelled. Calming her emotions down. Instantly. She'd learned to do that over the years. Easily.  
  
She heard the door slam. Hard. And she flopped down into the couch. Throwing the rag down. "Fuck..." she whispered beneath her breath.   
  
Tears rushing forward. Her emotions not as in check. As she would have liked. Before she straightened herself up.  
  
She heard a sniff from above her. And wiping away the tears. Turned. Seeing Agatha's head peeking out. Her cheeks glossy. And red.  
  
"Your ROOM Agatha!" Lara yelled. So loud she almost scared herself.  
  
"I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU THAT CATCHER'S AWAKE!" She screamed back. In a fit of hysterics. Before she bolted away. Disappearing with another slam of her door. Following her heavy feet.  
  
Lara rubbed the side of her head. Pausing for a moment. Before she let her emotions out with a heavy sigh. And turned to go up the stairs.  
  
She found Catcher on the side of the bed. Head down. Face in hands. Still shirtless. The sheets thrown askew.  
  
She sniffed back what was in her head. And came towards him. "Catcher?"  
  
He looked up. Awake. And better than before. But still slightly pale. Looking skinny. His breath labored. Somewhat.  
  
"Why were you yelling?" He asked. Slowly. Almost a whisper.  
  
Lara shook her head. Shrugging. "It happens sometime. We usually have a clash of opinions."  
  
She looked at him. Sitting there. With his head back in his hands. "We should get you something to wear. And eat. Aren't you hungry?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"You haven't eaten in a long time, Catcher. You've got to eat something. And it's probably not helping with you being sick." She went to the closet. Her presence turning on the automatic light. It chirped. As she pulled out the shirt cupboard.  
  
She picked up one of John's shirts. Dark. And blue. With a big white star on the front. Old-school. One he hadn't worn for a long time. So his smell wouldn't be on it. Too much.  
  
She smelled it anyway. Burying her nose in it. Smelling him. Or imagining so. Pretending to smell him. Still nestled in the clothes.  
  
She came back out. Collected. Only to see Catcher collapsed back across the bed. Arms above his head. Legs loose. Eyes closed.   
  
She noticed the gauze. Still taped across his chest. The bruising was probably gone now.  
  
She noticed the way his chest moved. As he breathed in slowly. And exhaled even slower. Holding onto each breath. For just the right amount of time. Relaxed. Completely.  
  
She noticed the dark hair running down from his bellybutton. Disappearing down into his pants. Glistening in the sun.   
  
She cleared her throat. To clear the thoughts away. And came forward. "Here." She offered. Throwing it on his chest. "You can wear this."  
  
He lifted his head. Getting those little wrinkles in the side of his neck. And chin. The ones that made Lara's heart speed up. She had a thing for those little wrinkles.  
  
She coughed into the back of her hand. Slowing her heart back down. Coming forward again. Reaching out her hand. "Here," again.   
  
He looked at her. Grabbed for the shirt. Then her hand. Letting her help him up.  
  
"Scoot." She pulled him forward. So that his legs were off the corner of the bed. Feet touching the floor. And she knelt down.   
  
His smell swept over her. Nearly knocking her over. That musky. Slightly unwashed smell.  
  
"We can probably take that off." Jeez? Was it hot in here?  
  
She reached up towards the bandaging. And he looked down at it. Licking his lips.  
  
She liked his tongue. How pink it was...how thick it was...how...  
  
She cleared her throat again. Righting herself by shifting herself up. Balanced on her haunches.  
  
"Are you alright?" He had the blue tee shirt crumpled in his one hand. His voice was deep and quiet. Weakened by the sickness. And the lack of food.  
  
"Yeah..." she fended. Peeling back the dressing. To reveal the stitches. Holding together connected skin. Healed. So far as she could tell. With her expert opinion. Anyway.  
  
"We should cut those," she stood up fast. Swallowing hard as she turned. "I'll get some scissors."  
  
She went into the master bathroom. The lights coming on. As she went to the mirror. And looked at herself in it. Not believing the feelings running through her.  
  
She bent down. The water came on. And she splashed it cold on her face. Trying to wake herself up.  
  
Well. It kind of worked.  
  
Drying her face off quickly. She rummaged for her small scissors. And came back out of the bathroom. Holding the scissors. As if she was going to sell them.  
  
Catcher was where he had been. Now with his eyes partially closed. A slight cringe on his face.  
  
  
  
She came to him. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes." He came up. Eyes popping open. Extinguishing the cringe. And sitting straight up.  
  
Lara kneeled down in front of him. Reaching out carefully to slide the scissors beneath the stitches edge. And clipped.  
  
The stitching had broken down. Till it was about half the width of dental floss. Now it only needed to be pulled out.  
  
She set down the scissors. And felt something tickle her forehead. But both her hands were busy. One pressing against the stitching. Making sure it didn't tear anything. While the other pulled at it. Lightly.  
  
She tried to wink the tickle away. But that only made it tickle more.  
  
Suddenly. A shadow came up over her face. And her eyes rolled. To find Catcher's finger at her forehead. Just above her brow. Scooping up the water drop. That the towel had missed.  
  
He wiped it dry with his thumb. Before pulling his arm back in. She looked into his eyes. Smiling slightly. "Thank you."  
  
He nodded and smiled in return. As she turned back to her work.  
  
She pulled slowly. Her eyes flicking up. On occasion. To watch his lip in his teeth. "Am I hurting you?" She asked.  
  
"No." He straightened. Remaining strong.  
  
She pulled. Until finally his hand came up. And weighted on her wrist.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
He sighed. Almost as if it were a crime to say it. "It tickles. A lot."  
  
A nervous. Anxious. Unabated. Laugh came out. Unwanted. Unstopped. And she tried to cover it. Pulling her hands. And unfortunately. The rest of the thread.  
  
He came forward with it. The shirt dropping to the floor. His head dropping into her neck as he laughed. A whispery laugh. That was silenced when his lips. Touched the skin of her neck. Soft.  
  
And he kissed her deeply. Her eyes closing. As she felt his breath. His teeth. His tongue.   
  
She pulled away with another laugh. Breathy too. Through her nose. Tucking the smile into her lips. Trying to hide the joy.  
  
His hand went to his chest. Feeling the spot. Where the stitches had been. "It tingles..." he said. Smiling slightly too. But not trying to hide it. Like she did.  
  
She got up. Pulling the wadded shirt with her. And nodded. Embarrassed. For liking what he did. So soon.  
  
"It probably will for a few moments. I don't think they're suppose to come out like that." She locked her lips. To keep in the giggle.  
  
And he grinned up at her. Her rosy cheeks. Powdered by a blue bruise.  
  
She batted his head with the shirt. To beat down his smile. Playfully. "Get dressed. I'm taking you downstairs to get something to eat." Before turning away. The smile breaking through. Teeth touching the air.  
  
She escaped into the bathroom. Shutting the door behind her. And leaning back against it. Her hand going up. Touching where he'd kissed her. Feeling it hot. And slightly moist.  
  
'Get a hold of yourself!' she yelled in her head. Throwing the scissors into the drawer. And the stitching into the trash. Next to the toilet.  
  
As she came back out. He was just pulling his head through the top. Rolling it down his belly. It was tight. But loose enough to be comfortable.  
  
God he looked good. That blue shirt brought out his eyes. Made them glow. At least one of them.  
  
"C'mon." She turned towards the door. Intent on being in front. In case more smiles came. To play.  
  
Then she heard a whimper from behind. And turned just as he caught himself from falling. His hand on the bedpost.  
  
She sigh-laughed. Exhaling through her nose. "You're all helpless, aren't you?"  
  
She came back. And let him put his arm around her shoulder. Helping to support him.  
  
"I guess so." He smiled.  
  
And as they walked together. She couldn't get over his smell. 


	21. the food

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE – THE FOOD   
  
"We didn't..." she began. But didn't finish. Couldn't.  
  
He looked up from his tomato soup. Eyebrow cocked. She stirred her soup. With her spoon. In a mug. His in a bowl.  
  
"Y'know...right?"  
  
He grinned. At a slant. "What?"  
  
She used her hands. Adding motions. To try and help. Get the point across. "Y'know...um...we didn't do 'it' right?"   
  
"Have sex?" He was blunt. And loud.  
  
Lara looked around. For little fingers. Little eyes. Little ears. Before crouching down. Licking her lip. Questioning.  
  
"No." He said. Turning back to his soup. Unwanted. "I don't think we did." Trailing his spoon. Through the skin.  
  
"Good." She leaned back. Then realized. And second-guessed. "I mean –uh- not good like in 'good that we didn't." she was frantic. "But good as in...'good that...we didn't...'" she was at a loss.  
  
He was just lost. Smiling awkwardly.  
  
"Nevermind." She threw her hands up. Turned to the hologram. And turned it off. Jimmy Neutron blinking. Before dying away to black. She turned back.  
  
"So..."  
  
He looked up again.  
  
She just smiled. Nervous. Frazzled. Weird.  
  
"Where did you grow up?"  
  
He shrugged. Pushing the soup away. "I don't know."  
  
She blinked.  
  
"What's your earliest memory?"  
  
He thought for a moment. "Seeing Agatha...can we not talk about my past?" He asked.  
  
And she leaned back. Before nodding. Wanting to know more. Suddenly. More than ever. "Sure...wha-whatever you want."  
  
He was sort of shamed. Now. And looked down at the counter. Dark. And blue. It seemed to bade his eyes. "It's just that, every question you ask, I won't know the answer to..."  
  
"Okay..." she comforted.   
  
Conversation died quickly. After that.  
  
Both breathing. Separately.   
  
His stomach growled. And his hand went down. A grimace on his face.  
  
"Are you sure you're not hungry?"  
  
The grimace faded for a moment. As he talked. "I don't know, what does 'hungry' feel like?"  
  
She tried to explain. "It feels like you're empty. Like your stomach's about the size of a walnut. And it hurts. Does it hurt?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
She pushed the soup back in front of him. "Then you have to eat."  
  
He picked up the spoon. And sipped a bit. Before putting it back down. "It hurts to eat."  
  
"It's cause you're starving." She concluded. "You're stomach's just not use to food."  
  
"Here." She stood. Went to the cupboard. And pulled out some instant-meals. "Go get your coat."  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"We're going to go for a walk. The sunshine and exercise will get rid of your hunger pains."  
  
He wanted to object. But he didn't. He just got up. And followed her directions.  
  
"What about Agatha?" He asked. Slipping his arms into his coat.  
  
"I'll leave her a note. She'll be alright." Lara came out of the kitchen. Carrying the instant-meals in a small knapsack.   
  
She reached into the closet. Past Catcher. To grab her coat. But stopped. And sniffed.  
  
Her face twisted. As she sniffed again.  
  
He looked at her. Sniffed. And his face twisted too.  
  
"What is that?" She asked.  
  
He shrugged. And sniffed.  
  
She came closer to him. Sniffing. Until finding the spot.  
  
She reached into his coat pocket. And drew out some wadded napkins. Hard. Crumbling. And rank.  
  
"Geeze, what are these from?" She held them away from her. They stunk that bad.  
  
He remembered. But shrugged. Like he didn't.  
  
They were from the dinner. At the restaurant. The war of the milk bubbles.  
  
She smiled. Because she knew it too. She'd seen them. Mopping. And stuffing.  
  
"Go ahead and get another coat. That one stinks." She said. As she went to the kitchen. To throw the napkins away.  
  
He unshouldered his coat. And picked another one. A green sweatshirt. With a hood. From somewhere in the back. And put it on.  
  
She came back. About to open the door. When she looked at him. The green sweatshirt. Brought out the green. In his other eye.  
  
And she couldn't help. But smile.  
  
Then she pulled herself out of it. Shaking her head.  
  
"Well then..." she covered.  
  
She allowed him to go first. And shut the door quietly behind her. He'd stopped at the top of the steps. Waiting for her.  
  
"Let's go..."  
  
She said.  
  
"...milk boy." 


	22. the snowcone

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO – THE SNOWCONE  
  
They walked side by side. Hands shoved in pockets. Eyes trained on their feet. Lara in red shoes. Catcher in black boots.  
  
He kept sneaking glances at her. And she'd glance back at him. But they'd never see each other.  
  
Goldfish Park was warm and dry. Despite it being cold and dreary outside its paths. The holosphere kept out the wind. And the bad weather. Only creating a warm. Summery day. In the pith of November.  
  
They walked silently down the path. A little white girl in a red dress ran by them. A red mother in a white dress followed.   
  
Down by the ponds. Old men threw bread to the goldfish. While little boys threw rocks at the goldfish. Invisible, digital birds sang melodies from the treetops. Not in the park. Having migrated. The constant warmth having messed with their instincts otherwise.  
  
"Let's go down here." Lara mentioned. Straying from the worn. Gray path. Catcher followed.  
  
She led him down the slight hill. To a spot beside a cement pond. Goldfish swam about. Lacing through the silvery water.  
  
"Is this alright?" She asked. Spreading out her arms. Catcher nodded. Hands shoved into his barrel pocket. On the front of the sweatshirt.   
  
Lara smiled. And began spreading out the blanket. One she'd gotten from a rack. When they'd first walked into the park.  
  
She laid it out. Then took off her shoes. And sat down upon it. Beckoning Catcher to do the same. In hesitance. He did. And sat. Looking at her. Still in his coat.  
  
She unshouldered hers. And set it beside her.   
  
Taking out the food. From the knapsack. She handed one to Catcher.   
  
He watched her as she pulled the cover back. Watching her shoulders fall. And her face twist. "Shit."  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
"My food's passed its expiration…"  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"It means it's spoiled. I can't eat it." She looked over at him. Reaching for his. "How's yours?" She opened it for him. It looked the same.  
  
"Oh well," she said. Unfazed. "We'll have to get something from the cart." She got up. And when she saw that he wasn't following. Put out her hands.  
  
He took them. And she pulled him up. Beginning to walk away.  
  
"What about our stuff?" he asked. Looking at their shoes. And her coat.  
  
"They're alright." She said. "We'll be back in a second."  
  
He caught up with her. Walking side by side again.  
  
"So what do you feel like?"  
  
"Feel like?"  
  
"Eating!" she emphasized. "You need sustenance young fool!" She smiled as they walked back towards the main path. Barefoot. Into the girth of cart food. They had everything at their disposal.  
  
They went by large carts. Wafting large smells. With large men pushing them. Yelling with large voices.   
  
"What do you feel like?" Catcher asked. Coming close when a cart got too near. Touching Lara's arm. Like a scared child. She noticed. But said nothing.  
  
"I feel like…" she rubbed her stomach. Asking it like a crystal ball. What did it want? "…a big, huge hotdog. And a snowcone…" she licked her lips. Letting her eyes close. As she took in the smells.  
  
"A hotdog?" Catcher asked. Looking at the people. So many people.  
  
"Do you want one?" She asked. But he didn't say anything. They were already at the cart.  
  
Lara ordered the hotdog. With relish. And ketchup. And mustard. Then she turned to Catcher.  
  
"I'll have what you have." He surrendered. Watching. Waiting. And taking it when it was handed. Lara paid and they kept walking.  
  
"You want a snowcone too?" She asked. Taking a bite out of her hotdog already. Loving it.  
  
"Sure." Catcher said. The talking from the people around them had grown more noisy. The cart men's yelling making sound claustrophobic.  
  
It was like a tiny city. Its main street being the noisiest.  
  
They went to the snowcone cart. Lara ordering a lemon snowcone for Catcher. And a blueberry one for herself. The ice dyed. Dark. And blue.  
  
"Here you go." She handed the lemon off to Catcher. As they made their way back to their spot. Their stuff still there. Untouched.  
  
It was more quiet when they finally sat. Lara propped against the fountain side. Catcher sitting across from her.  
  
He was looking at his hotdog.   
  
"They're very good, you know." She said. "You don't have to be afraid of them."  
  
"What is it made of?" He poked at the relish. Smearing his fingertip yellow. From the mustard.  
  
"Real meat. Back in the 90's, you didn't know what they were made out of. But they're safe now." She took another big bite. Wiping the ketchup from the corners of her mouth. With a smile.  
  
Catcher took a small bite. Tested it. Then chewed it up. Cringing slightly when he swallowed.  
  
"Does it still hurt?"  
  
"A little." He set his hotdog down. Beside his leg. And watched the people. Walking by.  
  
She watched him. Eating while she did. Then looked away quickly when he turned back. She brushed at a hair that had fallen. Tucking it behind her ear.  
  
She picked up her snowcone. And took a big bite. Liking the crunch. The blueberry flavoring. Tasted good. Swam around her teeth. And dyed her tongue.  
  
Catcher was watching her. So she stuck her tongue out at him. Getting him to smile.  
  
"Your tongue's blue." He said. Simple. Sweet.  
  
"Ith ip?" She asked. Keeping her tongue out. Trying to look at it.  
  
This made him laugh. A little laugh.  
  
She smiled. Then just looked at him.   
  
"What?" he asked. After a while. Taking little bites of his own. Snowcone.  
  
"You may not know the answer to this." She comforted. "But do you know what's wrong with your heart?"  
  
He looked at her. Then down to his chest. Flat palming. Where his heart would be. "No." He said. "It just hurts."  
  
"All the time?" She asked. Brushing back the unruly hair. Again. Leaning forward. Biting her lip.  
  
"Not when I'm with Agatha." He said. Looking up. Flicking back at how close she was. Then repositioning himself. So that their faces were close again. He liked feeling her breath. On his mouth. Warm. And swirling. Whenever she spoke. "Or with you."  
  
She reached out. Tentatively. And touched where his heart was. Where his hand was. Gently. Smiling slightly at him.  
  
They looked at each other for a moment. Before Lara cleared her throat. And sat back. Drawing back her arm.  
  
Catcher caught it. In mid air. And wrapped it up with his hand. "It doesn't hurt when you touch me..." he said. Softly.  
  
She blinked. Before she leaned forward again. And kissed him. On the lips. Tasting him. For the first time. Then she sat back. Realizing what she'd just done. And liking it.  
  
He never let go of her hand. As his eyes came open. And he looked at her. Silently.  
  
"You taste like lemons." She smiled. Whispering.  
  
The breeze washed through his hair. Making it shiver. The blanket made designs in his eyes. Red. And White. Squares.  
  
She broke away from his stare. Breaking her heart. And reached for her snowcone. Taking a bite.  
  
"Heads up!" Came a call.   
  
Lara immediately ducked.  
  
But Catcher...   
  
WHACK! A Frisbee hit him square in the face. It popped his head back.  
  
Lara's hands went to her mouth. Covering a smile. Untimely yes. But Catcher's shocked face. It was too much.  
  
"I'm so sorry!" A woman came by. Panicked. "Are you alright sir?"  
  
A dog followed her. Panting. Drooling. Climbed into his lap. And began licking Catcher's face.  
  
He pushed the dog away. Clutching his nose.  
  
"Are you alright Catcher?" Lara couldn't help the smile. But her words were sincere.  
  
Catcher rubbed at his nose. "It hurts." He said.  
  
"I'm so, SO sorry." The Frisbee woman said. Taking her dog by the collar. Keeping it off Catcher. Who it was trying to get back on.  
  
Lara put up a hand. "He's alright." She said. Making sure he was.  
  
Catcher picked up the Frisbee. Which had fallen off to the side of his lap. And gave it to the woman.  
  
"Again. I'm sorry." She said. "Goodbye."  
  
As the woman left. Lara couldn't help but let out a laugh. It bent her into Catcher's lap.  
  
"What are you laughing at?" He asked. Holding his aching nose.  
  
"I don't know." Lara finished laughing. And sat back up. "Is it broken?"  
  
She moved his hands. And gently pushed on his nose. He flinched and she frowned. While it still tried to twist into a smile. "You poor thing. You should be alright."  
  
She sat back. Letting him have his nose again. As she reached over. And grabbed the last of her hotdog. Eating it down.  
  
She watched him for a while. Noticing his eyes watering. And wiped at them with her thumb. Wiping the tears on her pants.  
  
"Are you sure you're alright?" She asked. Frown smiling. Rubbing his shoulder.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut. And lifted up his head. Trying to make the pain go away.  
  
"We should probably be heading home." Lara said. Beginning to gather up the trash.  
  
She stood up. Bringing the trash with her. Then turned back to Catcher. "Are you going to finish your hotdog?"  
  
He shook his head no. And she took it up in her armload.  
  
"You have to at least eat your snowcone." She stated. Looking down on him. He reached for his snowcone. And held it at his chest. Still holding his nose.   
  
A surprised look came over her face. And he looked down. Seeing a spot in his snowcone. Yellow. Change colors. Orange.  
  
He looked up at Lara. Perplexed. Slightly scared.  
  
"It's alright." She said. Smiling. At the scared little child he was. "It's just a nose bleed. That Frisbee really got you."  
  
He touched his nose. Feeling the wetness. And brought it down. Tasting it. Then he licked his lip. Caught in the tangy. Coppery taste of it.  
  
"Here." She pushed his hovering hands down. And pushed a wad of napkins to his nose.  
  
He let her hold them there. As she stuck out her other hand. Juggling the trash. And helped him to his feet.  
  
"Can you get my coat and the blanket?" She asked. Breaking hands. He grabbed them up. And they went to walking. Back down the path. Back towards the house.  
  
They stopped at a trashcan nearby. And threw what they didn't want away. A chance of a glimpse in. Brought sight to a picture. Hidden beneath a wrapper. But enough to be recognized.  
  
Lara's eyes widened. As she reached in. And snatched up the paper.  
  
She crumpled it into her hand. And shoved it into her pocket.   
  
Then she took her place next to Catcher. As they walked.  
  
Acting as if nothing had happened. 


	23. the doorbell

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE – THE DOORBELL  
  
She took a sharp breath. And reared up. From the smashed pillow. Where she'd fallen asleep. Crying. Her cheeks felt hard. Like they were going to crack. Her dried tears leaving salty trails.   
  
She uncurled herself. From the swath of blankets. And set her feet down on the ground. She stood for a moment. Getting her bearings. Looking at the clock. It flickered. As she passed her hand through it.  
  
Then she went towards the door. Opened it a sliver. Stood quiet.  
  
There was nothing to be heard.  
  
"Mommy?" she chanced. Breathy. And small.  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Mommy?" Louder now.  
  
Still nothing.   
  
Agatha yawned. And rubbed her eyes. Coming down the stairs.  
  
"Mommy?" Again. Into the living room.  
  
Nothing.  
  
She went into the kitchen.  
  
There was a note upon fridge. Telling her where they'd gone. Arranged under it. Were alphabet magnets. Saying. I LOVE YOU. I M SORRY.  
  
She should have been mad. But she wasn't.  
  
She smiled. And opened the freezer.  
  
Taking out her half eaten milkshake. Closing the door. And going to get a spoon. She crawled up onto the counter. Turned on the holovision. And watched The Smurfs. Eating her half frozen milkshake.  
  
She got through about four episodes. When the doorbell rang.  
  
She didn't move. She wasn't suppose to answer the door.  
  
There was a knock now.  
  
"Lara?" A call from outside.  
  
Agatha turned away. And looked at the door.  
  
Another knock. "Lara? Are you there?"  
  
The voice sounded familiar. So she crawled off the counter. Leaving her milkshake there. And the HV on.  
  
She came to the door. Too small to see out the peephole.  
  
"Don't open the door when I'm not here." Her mother had said. But something told her she had to. This time.  
  
"Lara?" The call was sad.  
  
"She's busy." Agatha said simply.  
  
"Agatha?"  
  
She blinked. The voice knew her name. That interested her in the identity of the person.   
  
Finally. She opened the door.  
  
And froze.  
  
There. On the front porch was a man. Standing slump shouldered. In a long. Black. Trench coat. The collar drawn up. His face chalky. His eyes dark. And red. With bags beneath them. Dark. And blue. Showing that he'd been crying. And drugging.  
  
He stood silent. Staring.  
  
Agatha blinked at this man. Twisting the doorknob. With her hand.  
  
"Hi daddy." 


	24. the hair

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR – THE HAIR  
  
Squeezing the bridge of his nose. Right between his eyes. Made his nose. And his eyes. And the front part of his head. From hurting. The pain in the back. However. Nothing could be done.  
  
With one arm pinching his face. Lara had hers hooked around his other.  
  
He closed his eyes. To see if it would help. And almost ran into a pole.  
  
"Whoa. You okay?" Lara veered him over to the curb. Watching him reopen his eyes. And try to blink away the pain.  
  
"It hurts." He said. His mouth coming open weirdly. Trying to stretch the pain out. Thinner. Less piercing.  
  
"Let me see." She pushed down his hand. And poked lightly at his nose. He cringed away. "Ow."  
  
"It's bruising. There's blood in your eye." She pulled down his bottom eyelid. To get a better look at it. The blood was in the blue one. Dark. And blue.  
  
She kissed his chin. Then turned away. Taking his hand. "Come on. We're going to get you some pain relievers."  
  
She felt a burst of energy go through her. And Catcher was at its mercy. They ducked into the nearest drug store. The bell rang. But didn't scan their eyes. It was an old store.  
  
The cashier. A large man. Named Amja. He had magic hair. And wore a black tee shirt. And orange pants. With big white words across it. WARNING: KEEP OUT OF CHILDREN.   
  
The law of the city taking humor almost too far. In 2022 they passed a law. Almost with a fire lit behind it. That pedophiles were to be castrated. Amja was one. And got the chop.  
  
A cross was around his neck. He thought himself to be saved. From himself.  
  
Lara pulled Catcher to a big black box. Behind it. In the wall. A conveyor belt ran from it. To a stall behind the counter. To Amja.  
  
Lara waved her hand. And the screen popped on. Catcher took a step back. In surprise. And Lara smiled.  
  
WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE?  
  
It gave categories:   
  
Food. Clothes. Utilities. Toiletries. Entertainment. Medicine. Games.   
  
She touched. MEDICINE.  
  
It gave subcategories:  
  
Allergy. Pain. Prescription. Vitamins.   
  
She touched. PAIN.  
  
A slew of painkillers came up. The pharmacies had run rampant.  
  
Lara scrolled. And touched one. The black box chirped.  
  
And the painkiller appeared behind the counter. Coming into Amja's waiting hand.  
  
She went to turn away. But stopped in mid shift. Of her weight.  
  
She looked over to Catcher. Who stared back at her. And she licked her teeth.  
  
"I want to show you something."  
  
She started over.   
  
ENTERTAINMENT.  
  
Its subcategories:  
  
Movies. Holovision Shows. Magazines. Newspapers. Radio. Music.   
  
She touched. MAGAZINES.  
  
She scrolled. And chose. Scrolled some more. And chose again. Catcher raised an eyebrow.  
  
She just smiled.  
  
And started over. For the third time.  
  
"I'm feeling spontaneous." She mused.  
  
Touched. TOILETRIES.  
  
Its subcategories:  
  
Hair Care. Facial Care. Skin Care. Nail Care. Make-up. Accessories.   
  
She touched. HAIR CARE.  
  
Scrolled. And looked at the slew.  
  
"Which one do you think?" She asked. And Catcher seemed questioning. As always.  
  
"For what?" He asked.  
  
"For something different. For me."  
  
He thought for a moment. Looked over the options. And chose.  
  
"That one."  
  
"Good. I was thinking that too." She pressed. And headed towards Amja. Who had the things waiting.  
  
She paid. Then pointed over her shoulder. "Is your bathroom back there?"  
  
Amja nodded. And bagged her things.  
  
Lara went back through the aisles. Catcher following. She went into the woman's bathroom. And he stopped outside.  
  
"Don't be shy. No one's here." She pulled him in by the wrist. And shut the door behind him. Locking the deadbolt. She dumped the items down on the counter. And threw the bag on the floor.  
  
Catcher sat down on the floor. Opposite the sink. And Lara.  
  
She tore open the box of painkillers. Pulled out the bottle. Took off the wrapper. Unscrewed the cap. And shook out a long. Blue colored. Pill. Dark. And blue.  
  
"These are like an instantaneous, mild euphoria." She said. Looking at him. Through the mirror. Then turned and tossed it to him. He caught it. And looked at it. Studying it.  
  
She bent down. Waved her hand. And the water came on. She cupped her hands. Filled them. And walked quickly. And carefully. Towards Catcher. Her hands dribbling a bit.  
  
"Put it on your tongue. Don't chew it." She instructed. And he did. And she put her hands up to his chin. "Drink." She said. And his dipped his lips into her palms. Swallowing the water. And the pill. Whole. With a little difficulty.  
  
His lips tickled her. As he drank her hands dry. Then she watched him soften. And begin to kiss her palms. His eyes closed. He kissed. At each section on her fingers. And pressed his face into the smooth. Of each palm. She liked that part.  
  
She moved her hands up. And her head down. To catch his lips. Lifting them. To her own. She kissed him deeply. Pressing herself against him. And his knees parted. To let her closer. She hooked her legs beneath her. Twisted them in his. Wrapped her arms around his back. And pulled him away from the wall.  
  
He came willingly. And his hand cradled the back of her head. His thumb. Strumming the dip in her neck. The base of her brain. As her hand slithered down. Swam through his clothes. The sweatshirt. The tee shirt. To touch skin. And went downward.  
  
She felt his fly. Grabbed the extended metal. And pulled. The zipper came down smoothly. The pants were old. And worn. And soft. She ventured inside. The zipper teeth abrading. Slightly.   
  
It was warm in his pants. And she felt his body stiffen. His lips stop kissing. Sucking in his breath. "Do you want me to?" She asked. Whispery. Not moving her hand.  
  
His eyelids flickered. His eyebrows stitching. Emotions passing. Over his face so quick. She couldn't catch them all.  
  
She forced him into a kiss. To keep him. From confusing himself. And he fell into it. "Yes…" he breathed. Then stiffened again. When she advanced softly. "…and no."  
  
"No, why?" she asked. Not bitter. But curious. "I told you I wouldn't hurt you. You're safe with me."  
  
"…I…" he said. And she kissed him. Just to pull a taste from him. With a barrage. And they found themselves spread out. Across the floor. Lara braced above him. Catcher on his back. She pulled away. To look at his face. Wrought with overall grief.  
  
"We don't have to. Until you're ready." She said calmly. Smiling. Stroking the side of his face.  
  
"I'm ready. I think. I just…" his voice faded. And he took up her stroking hand. To kiss the soft pads. At the tips of her fingers.  
  
"Just what?" She wanted him to quit skirting. The issue.  
  
"I don't know how." He practically breathed. Barely even words. It was so quiet.  
  
Lara almost laughed. But bent down. And muffled it with a kiss. A long. Loving. Kiss.  
  
Then she sat up on her knees. Leaned over to the side. And stretched over him. To reach the magazine. On the counter.   
  
"Come here." She said. Leaning back. And moving to sit. With her back against the wall. She patted the spot next to her. And Catcher wriggled there.  
  
She handed the magazine over. And watched Catcher open it.   
  
Sounds came out. And Catcher shut it quickly with wide eyes. Scared eyes. His breath hissing.  
  
Lara couldn't help but laugh this time. And threw her hands up to muffle it.  
  
Catcher turned to her. His jaw open a bit. His eyebrows curled. His face slightly red.  
  
"What was that?" He asked. An almost disgusted look. Coming over his face.  
  
"Aw, babe." She said. Sympathetically.   
  
She pulled him to sit in front of her. His pants sliding easily. On the slick floor. Her legs propped around his sides. His back against her chest. She took the soft porn magazine. And opened it up again.  
  
The sounds came out. And the recorded holographs floated off the page. She felt Catcher's body stiffen again. In a different way. And for a different reason this time. And she kissed his hair. On the back of his head. Comforting him.   
  
She held the page open for a little while. Letting Catcher see it. Hearing his breath catch in him. The uncomfortableness.  
  
When the people on the page had finished. With Lara smiling at Catcher's tweaking. Curling. Body. At the noises. She shut the magazine. And laid it down. Pulling Catcher's stiff body. Back into hers. Cradling it. Rubbing at his head. He touched her wrapping arm. His hands feeling clammy.  
  
"That's sex Catcher." She said. And stroked his hair.  
  
It took a while. But an answer came. "I don't think I can do that."  
  
Lara smiled. And buried her face in his hair. "You can. You just don't know it. It will come naturally. Like breathing."  
  
He relaxed back into her a bit. His hands not so clammy. "That didn't look natural." He said softly. And Lara blew a breath of laughter. Out her nose. Onto his head. It warmed his scalp for a moment.  
  
"It's alright. You'll know how to do it when you're ready." She said aloud. While in her mind. She thought. 'How can he not know so many things?'  
  
"How's your headache?" She asked.  
  
"Better. I think." He said.   
  
"What about your belly ache?" She touched his belly.  
  
"It still hurts a little. But less than before." His eyes falling on the closed magazine that lay at their side. Remembering what he saw.  
  
Even though he said nothing. She could feel the doubt in him. The worry. And the wonder. Surrounding him. At himself. At her. At them. And she decided to ease his mind for a bit.  
  
"Here." She said. Pushing him up. Off of her. Enough to slip out. And away. "There's something you can help me with." She went to the counter. And pulled out the large box. And turned to him. Patting the counter. "Come up here."   
  
Sighing. He rose. Walked. And jumped up onto the counter. Leaving the magazine on the floor.  
  
She opened the box. Dumped out the things. And pressed the top corner of the box. A holograph came up. Showing the instructions. When it finished. It disappeared back against the box.  
  
"Sounds easy enough." Lara smirked. And unscrewed the cap. To the bleaching agent.  
  
She took out a cap. That had come in the box. And put it on. Shoving all her hair into it. It was like a soft helmet. See-through. That didn't cover her ears. It looked slightly silly. With a nozzle thing. Sticking out from the top. And it made Catcher smile.  
  
"Here," she tipped her head. "Put this," pointing to the end of the bleaching tube. "In here," pointing to the nozzle thing.  
  
He did. And locked it in. Like the holograph had showed. Then pressed the button on the top of the bleach.   
  
The effect was almost immediate. Her hair turned. In the blink of an eye. From black brown. To a yellowish white. And a light came on. On the bleaching bottle. Signaling that it was done.  
  
"Okay," Lara said. Excitement in her voice. "Now for the color."  
  
She handed him the coloring tube. And he locked it into the nozzle. Throwing away the empty bleach one. He went to touch the button. But she stopped him.  
  
"Wait." She smiled. "I want it to be a surprise."  
  
He thought for a moment. Too long. And was shooed off the counter by her. Chasing him into the stall. She closed it on his face. With a kiss goodbye.  
  
And he only smiled goofily at her. Amused.  
  
Going back to the counter. Looking in the mirror. She pressed the button. The color came out. And she waited.  
  
This one took longer. Not much. But longer than the bleach.  
  
When it lighted done. She took out the tube. Threw it away. Then took off the cap. Crumpled it up. And threw that away too.  
  
Then she messed with her hair. Deciding if she liked the color. Surprised at how it changed her face. Liking it. Loving it slowly. In fact.  
  
When she felt satisfied. She went triumphantly to the stall. And opened it up. Standing akimbo.  
  
"What do you think?" Running her fingers through it. Cocking an eyebrow. Playfully.  
  
It was bright red. The box had said the color was. "Vendetta Red".  
  
She could see the color reflecting in his eyes.  
  
The green one turned brown.  
  
The blue one turned purple.  
  
And his lips turned up into a smile.  
  
"I like it." 


	25. the homecoming

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE – THE HOMECOMING   
  
Lara let go of Catcher's arm. And went to her pocket for the key. But it was not in there.  
  
"That's weird." She said. Catcher cocked an eyebrow. And turned the knob. The door came open.  
  
"Is that weird too?" He asked.   
  
Lara stepped past him. Looking in.   
  
"He's still here, I see."  
  
The voice came from the kitchen. And it made Lara's hair stand up on the back of her neck.  
  
"John?"  
  
"Yes. It's me." The voice was cold. Distant. Sad.  
  
"Go check on Agatha." Lara whispered to Catcher. Pushing him towards the stairs.  
  
She walked in. And Catcher followed. Seeing John at the counter. Drinking out of the milk carton. The cow on it mooed. Milk dribbled down his chin. His lip was numb. His face was dead looking.  
  
She didn't like it.  
  
"He's wearing my sweatshirt…" there was hate in his words.  
  
She turned. And looked at the sweatshirt. But didn't say anything. Her hand went down to her finger. Touching the splint.  
  
"I didn't come here to yell at you." John said. Slowly.  
  
"Then what did you come here for?" She asked. Not looking up from the ground.  
  
"I came to apologize…" he gripped the carton. But didn't raise it. To his lips.  
  
Lara stopped breathing. And her eyes slowly closed. "I'm not going to take any more of your apologies John."  
  
He didn't move.  
  
"I don't have enough energy left to take any more apologies."  
  
Slowly. He closed the top of the carton. And let go.  
  
Then turned.  
  
His throat was bruised. There were tears in his eyes. His face looked heavy.  
  
She felt her stomach knot. As he fell to his knees. Her arms reach out. To touch him.  
  
"I've missed you Lara." John shed a tear. As he reached beneath her arms. Outstretched. And wrapped his own about her waist. Burying his head. Against her belly.  
  
Her hand went to his head. Feeling his hair. His cheek against her stomach.  
  
After a moment. He raised his head. And met her eyes. Coming back up to stand.   
  
He looked at her for a long while. Before he leaned in. And kissed her.  
  
At first. She kissed him back.   
  
Then she noticed his smell. As it touched her nose. Wasn't the same as she remembered it. He didn't smell like John. It smelled rotten. And cold.  
  
And her lips turned stiff.  
  
After sucking what he wanted off her. He pulled away. Question in his eyes. Someone else's eyes.  
  
She hated what he'd become.  
  
Her voice came out cold. Stern. "I don't want to see you around here John. You have a sickness. And I don't want you around my daughter with it."  
  
"You're right." John relented easily. "I do have a sickness. But you don't have to take my daughter away from me..." his words were pleading.  
  
"I want you to go away." Her eyes were sad. But her words were firm.  
  
He was silent for a moment. Sadness reflecting in his sunken eyes. Bleary eyes. Missing eyes.  
  
"I have no where to go." He said. Quietly. Pathetically.  
  
It was silent again.   
  
For a long.   
  
Long.   
  
Time.  
  
"You can have the couch." She broke.   
  
Bitterness suddenly sprouted. As John's attention. Turned to Catcher. Who'd been standing there. The whole time. A shadow. "Where does dead boy sleep?"  
  
"My room." She whispered.   
  
His face became stricken. Distressed. His mouth fell open.   
  
"With you?" He didn't believe.  
  
"In the same bed?" Couldn't.  
  
"Next to you?" Believe.  
  
Each question he asked. Pushed him farther away. Then he ever wanted to be.  
  
And brought Catcher. Ever closer.  
  
She didn't mean to say it. "Sometimes Agatha's room."   
  
Almost.  
  
Turning her head away. Looking at Catcher's feet. His black boots. She knew that'd hit a nerve.   
  
John's jaw hit the floor. His shoulders sank. His cheeks turned red. His forehead gray. His neck blue. His eyes black.  
  
"You trust him with Agatha?" His hand came up. Stiff finger pointing. As if to fire a bullet. At Catcher's chest.  
  
Catcher's hand tightened. On her shoulder.  
  
"More than you." She breathed. "Yes." Looking up. At him.  
  
His jaw shook. His eyes watered. And his knees bent. But he did not fall.   
  
When his shaking body stopped. He looked up at her. His arms out. Palms up. Cupped. In repose. He looked pathetic. "More then me?...More than me...More than me?" His voice grew. Caught in his throat. Stuck in the bruise. Coarse to the ears.  
  
Lara flinched. Catcher's hand tightened. While the other snaked around her waist. Pulling her in. Away from John. She put her own hand on it. Welcoming it.  
  
And a fire lit in John's eyes. Before fogging over.  
  
"I see then." His mouth quivered. As he rose to his feet.   
  
Lara's eyes closed. And she sighed. As she watched John head for the couch. Then she turned. And whispered to Catcher. "Go check on Agatha."  
  
He paused. An eye wary on John. Before he let his arms slide from her. And he moved towards the stairs. Went up. And disappeared.  
  
Lara followed John into the living room. Watched him lay down on the couch. And curl up. Fetally. Tears came in her eyes. But she held them back. Going to the closet. Pulling out a blanket. Dark. And blue. And draping it over him.  
  
His own eyes were filled with tears. And she had to walk back across the room. Keeping her distance from him.  
  
He watched her. With cold. Dark. Gray. Foggy. Eyes. Half swollen. Half wet. Not his.  
  
That's what she heard in her head. Every time she looked at him. His eyes. Not his. Someone else's.   
  
"Why do you trust him more than me?" His voice was meek. But brought her out of her thought. She shifted. And pulled her arms about her. Suddenly feeling cold.  
  
"Because he doesn't lose my children…" it was a whisper. But it struck her like a shriek. And she stumbled back. Overcome with the guilt of having said that. And she had to pant to recover. Tears fell fluidly down her cheeks.  
  
John did not move. His stare became blank. Distant. Gone.  
  
"I...I...have to..." she stuttered. And ran from the room. Not finishing her retreat. Fleeing to the kitchen. Smacking her shoulder into the wall. Ricocheting. Spinning. And backing into the little corner. Between the cupboards. And the fridge. Where she sank to the floor. Crying.  
  
She stayed there for a long time. Her eyes becoming sore. The edges of her mouth too. Her head aching. Her hands were coated in tears. And snot. And sweat. As she finished. Rose on shaky legs. And wobbled to the counter. Where she fell again.  
  
She reached for a towel. And cleaned off her face. Her hands. Before throwing it down. Sucking in her breath. Trying to regain herself.  
  
When she felt ready. She rose. And went back out to the living room. Only to find John. Passed out. His mouth open. His breath hissing. And pressed. In his pinched throat. She went by him quietly. Stripping from her jacket. Throwing it to the floor.  
  
Up the stairs. She opened the door to Agatha's room. Silently. And found Catcher curled around the little girl. He raised his head to her. Staring.  
  
She smiled back. It was pitiable. Drenched in tears.   
  
Catcher raised up. His face curious. But Lara raised her hand. Telling him to stay. As she turned. And went down the hall. 


	26. the papers

thank you to all the reviewers who haven't given up on me - although you probably ought to of by now - and i'd like to especially thank bookbindersdaughter whom is the most consistant person i've ever met. i wish i could give you a great big hug sweetie, you've always been so kind. more than i deserve.

i swear that someday i'll update my American Outlaws story once i figure out what the hell i'm going to do with it (if anyone has any suggestions feel free to e-mail me! you'll get credit for it, i'll make sure of that!)

and speaking of, in any of you would like to screw around with any of my unfinished stories, go right ahead - but remember to tell me! thanks. bye.  
  
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX – THE PAPERS  
  
She clicked.  
  
Two wedding bands came up on the screen. Entwined. Before they broke apart. And the little cartoon. Man and wife. Frowned. And broke apart with them.  
  
The flash opening. To a divorce site.  
  
She typed in a name. Clicked. And waited.  
  
Four seconds later. Divorce papers were cooling on the printer shelf. The ink drying.  
  
She turned away from it. And looked to another paper.  
  
The one she'd dug out of the trashcan. On their walk back.  
  
The sound chip in the newspaper. Had run out. In the trash. There was motion. But no sound.  
  
It flashed a picture of Danny Witwer. His face. Before doing a 360 around him. And then flashing his corpse.  
  
The face was mangled. Barely a face.  
  
It showed a shaky interview. With a large woman. With a hook. For an arm.  
  
She looked angry.  
  
And she shoved her hook into the camera lense.  
  
The screen fizzled.  
  
Then a message blared. Big white words.  
  
MISSING  
  
It didn't matter though.  
  
The search had stopped. Two weeks after.  
  
No one missed his corpse.  
  
Then the video restarted.  
  
Catcher looked too much like the corpse.  
  
But she'd always known that.  
  
Too much like Danny.  
  
Somehow she'd always known too. That Catcher _was_ Danny.  
  
But a different Danny.  
  
One that didn't know.  
  
What he'd been.  
  
Who he'd been.  
  
She glanced back at the divorce papers. That empty line that begged her name.  
  
The line that begged John's.  
  
And she looked at the pen. Sitting by her splayed hand.  
  
Then to the newspaper video.  
  
She heard a heavy sigh.  
  
And she tipped her chair back.  
  
Seeing John lying there. Curled on the couch. Wrapped in a blanket. Breathing softly. He almost looked pleasant.  
  
Until he shifted. And the blanket came down. Revealing his neck. Blackened. And bruised. Dark. And blue.  
  
And she turned away. Sickened.  
  
Her eyes meeting that line.  
  
Begging.  
  
She picked up the pen.  
  
Pleading.  
  
Touched its tip to the paper.  
  
Praying.  
  
And signed.  
  
When finished. She looked at the messy curls. Slippery letters. Cold. But smiling.  
  
The pen slid from her fingers.  
  
She pressed her eyes. Into the heels of her hands.  
  
Before dropping her head. Fairly hard. Onto the table.  
  
She laid there for a long while.  
  
Thinking.  
  
Hard.  
  
She dozed. For a moment.  
  
Her upright arm. Falling against her ear. Brushing past her hair. Red. And waking her. She breathed in. And rose from the table top. Rubbing at her face.  
  
Rising. Gathering the divorce paper. She walked slowly out of the kitchen. Towards John. Watching him sleep. Watching his neck. Wishing. In vain. That it was someone else's.  
  
Like his eyes.

Something he could give back.  
  
She draped the paper on him. And put the pen beside him. Before kneeling down in front of him. And looking. Doing nothing else. But breathing.  
  
Intentionally. Not with his.  
  
That's when she heard Agatha.  
  
Screaming.


	27. the saint

The door opened. To blood.

Catcher was curled on the bed. Agatha was curled around him. In a pool of blood.

Her head was buried in his chest. Her little arms. Once white. Now stained red. Like Catcher's shirt. The sheets. The wall.

"What happened?" Lara lunged for the bed. Prying at Agatha's hands. To get her away from the blood. Agatha's head came up. "No mommy!" Her scream was hysterical. Horrified. Permanent. "I can't let go." It became a mantra. "I can't let go. I can't let go. I can't let go..."

Lara. Hindered. Moved to Catcher.

"Catcher? What is it? What happened? Why are you bleeding?" Her hands went to his side. And as soon as she touched. He kicked. And curled. And cried. "Help me." He whispered.

"I don't...what's wrong? Why are you bleeding? What happened?" She tried to find his eyes. In a mess of blankets. Clothes. Blood. And hair.

The stain was down his chest. Pooling around him. Agatha. Soaking the sheets. Splashed. And smeared against the wall.

"I'm calling the hospital." She turned.

She turned. And screamed.

"John!"

But down the stairs. John didn't move. His eyes were on the paper. His lips parted. His ears deaf. His head down. His hands shaking. His thoughts raging.

Catcher groaned hoarsely. A gurgling scream. Lara turned back at the sound. Agatha began to cry. Her arms tight around him. Her eyes cinched closed. "Mommy!" She cried between Catcher's moans. "Help him!"

"I can't..." Lara stammered. "I don't..." She had no clue what to do.

She flipped around again. And took one. Long. Step towards the door. Only to hear Catcher. And Agatha. Cry out. And she flipped back.

Catcher's bloody hand was out. His other lost in the gore. That was his chest. It was reaching towards her. Agatha was hanging on. Scared. They were all scared.

"What Catcher? What?" Lara went down on her knees. Taking Catcher's hand. "What?"

He just lay there. Twisting. Writhing. Grimacing. Moaning. Spitting breaths.

With a sudden. Spewing. Cry. He rose to sit up.

"No!" Lara lunged to push him back down. Agatha cried out.

But Catcher held up against Lara's weight. And pushed her back. She fell to the ground. The carpet burning the backs of her thighs.

He cried out again. As he pushed his legs over the side of the bed. Agatha coming with him. His head dropping slightly. A new surge of blood washing through his fingers.

His cries became a function of movement. But with each one. His face grew more gray. More blood on his shirt. More terror in Agatha's face. As the blood dribbled in her hair. Down her face. Onto her room.

"Catcher what are you doing!" Lara screamed. Rising to her feet. On wobbly legs.

With a great groan. Splitting into a scream. Towards the end. Catcher rose to his feet. And almost fell back again. But Lara caught his shoulder. And he fell into her.

The combined deadweight of him. And Agatha. Nearly knocked her over again. But she held fast.

Agatha slowly slipped down his body. Her little arms tearing at his clothes. As she tried to find a hold. Catcher's manipulated body ground itself against Lara's. Blood spitting onto her. Smearing against her. Pooling beneath her.

"You'll kill yourself!" She tried to warn him. But he didn't listen. He went out into the hall. To the end. and pushed himself down the stairs. Taking it step. By blundering step.

Catcher slipped a little. At the bottom. Feet heavy. Eyes rolling. Head tipping.

Lara had to adjust her hands. Pressing. Pulling. Moving him. Her stomach sinking as she saw. ****

The couch was empty. The paper signed. The blanket fallen. The door open. John gone.

Catcher pushed himself. Heavy. To the doorway. Which was letting in lashing rain.

But there. Standing just at the foot of the porch. Calm and dry. Beneath a clear umbrella. Was an old woman. With a wrinkled smile.

"Hello." She said sweetly. "What's this then?"


End file.
